Heart
by Secretly-A-Fangirl
Summary: He smells of rain and the woods, a pleasant scent that I could easily grow used to. I blush again, hiding my face behind a curtain of dark hair. "Do you have the book?" The book, that's what his visits are always about; the book that ruined everything.
1. Strangers in the Dark

**It's almost like the hard times circle 'round  
>A couple drops and they all start coming down<br>Yeah, I might feel defeated,  
>And I might hang my head<br>I might be barely breathing - but I'm not dead, no  
>Bring on the Rain—Jo Dee Messina<strong>

_Two small children and one teenager sit at their grandmother's small kitchen table. It was a quiet day and the three had decided that they wanted to hear their grandma's amazing story again. Narissa, the lone teenager, didn't believe it actually happened, but she still loved to hear it._

_Their grandma motions for the children to follow her into the living room, lapis lazuli eyes glittering happily. It made her happy to know that her tale kept her grandchildren entertained, even after all these years. Narissa is of age and soon-to-be wed to the local book binder—she'll pass on the tale to her own children if her grandmother doesn't get the chance to._

"_Where shall I start," the grandmother asks, sitting in her comfortable, old armchair. The three children sit on the floor in front of her, eager looks on their faces. They all look so much like their mother that it feels as though she's just re-telling it to her daughter, Isadora. It could be argued that Robert looked more like his uncle Dustin she supposed._

"_With the villains," Robert shouts, bouncing up and down. His twin sister, Roslyn, just scowls._

"_No, she should start where Julianne falls in love!" Robert's face scrunches into an expression of disgust. Narissa shares a smile with her grandma, allowing a childish giggle to escape. She didn't have to be grown up here; she could be six like her younger siblings instead of seventeen._

"_How about grandma starts at the beginning," Narissa suggests. She loves all of the tale, no matter how unbelievable it is. The twins look at each other, shrug, and turn to face their grandmother again._

"_It was raining that night," the white-haired grandmother begins in her gentle voice," I'll always remember that…"_

I glare at my computer screen as it goes black for the third time tonight, taking my term paper and throwing it to the wind to fend for itself—I swear, the damn thing will never be finished if this rain keeps up. I patiently wait for the computer to reboot, hoping against hope that the document had somehow been saved. It seemed God was on hold at the moment because when I pulled up recovered documents the only thing there was my half-finished report over Osiris for my Egyptology class. At my disappointed huff, Meggie lets out a small laugh. I glare at my little sister over my shoulder, lips pursed as she continues to laugh. "It's not funny, Meggs, this thing is over half my grade and if I don't have it turned in by next Tuesday I fail my English class." The blonde rolls her eyes, moving to sit on the bench below my window. I sigh as I turn back to my computer, pulling up my term paper and glaring at all the red, squiggly lines beneath a few names I had put in for sources.

"Juli," Meggie gasps suddenly," someone's out there!" With my eyebrows scrunched together, I move over to look out the window myself. I can vaguely make out the person standing in our yard, the rain makes it difficult, but I'd know that slender build anywhere. "What should we do?"

"Go get Mo," I tell her, my voice quiet as the man's face turns in our direction like he could hear our conversation. Meggie hurries out of my room and down the hall to our dad's office while I continued to stare at the man, my hands starting to tremble. If he could find us so far from our last home the others could too and that made me nervous. With a shaky breath, I move away from my perch on the bench, taking a couple of steps back in case someone else was out there and lurking beneath my window where I couldn't make them out. It's happened to me before and I wouldn't doubt that it would be the last time either. Meggie and Mo enter the room then, Mo joking about the situation until he sees the man. His face pales then and his lighthearted mood vanishes. He feels the same dread that I do; a nasty feeling like a clawed hand cutting off my air and squeezing still harder around my throat.

"You promised no one would break into our house," Meggie was saying," that we had nothing worth stealing." But we did, hidden away and wrapped in a plain brown sack in a secret room.

"He's not a burglar," Mo replies, stepping away from the window and gesturing for Meggie to do the same. "Go to bed, your sister and I will see to him." Mo left the room with Meggie's mouth open, the twelve-year-old confused and angered. I would be too if I didn't know what was going on—as it was, I am angered and frightened. I follow after Mo with Meggie at my heels, coming into the living room in time to see Mo unlocking the front door and opening it to stare out into the night. "Dustfinger!" A cold wind blows rain and leaves inside, nearly swallowing Mo's shout. "Is that you?" Of course it was, he's the only man that can track us so swiftly. I was a year younger than Meggie when I first met true evil and lost my step mother of four years.

I didn't think he was going to come in at first but then I heard his footsteps, a slighting sucking sound happening whenever he stepped in some mud. He came out of the darkness like a ghost, one second there was darkness and the next he was standing in the doorway; his long coat and ginger hair dripping water. His eyes land on Mo first, then on Meggie and me. They were blue and held sorrow like I had never seen before. He wipes his face on the sleeve of his coat before offering Mo his hand to shake. "Silvertongue, how are you?" _Silvertongue_, I hate the name that was given to Mo all those years ago. "It's been a long time."

"Not long enough," I grumble, folding my arms across my chest. His gaze lands on me again, intense and unafraid. I feel heat creep up my neck and to my cheeks, giving my normal pale complexion a hint of red. "How long have you been outside; you were creeping out my sister." Now his eyes land on Meggs. She moves closer to me, one of her hands curling into a fist; she's a strong girl and can take care of herself in most situations, but this was a different matter entirely and I wanted her nowhere near it.

"Ah yes, your little sister...Meggie, isn't it?" Mo nods resignedly, shutting the door on the cold, but it never truly left me. I shiver, moving to stand half in front of Meggie in a protective gesture I've been practicing most of my life. I wouldn't let anyone hurt her if I could help it. "She's grown since last I saw her. How old is she now?" He smiles at her, a strange smile that both drew me in and unnerved me. It was familiar, part of my childhood and nothing good ever came from it.

"Twelve," Mo answers, locking both locks on our door. Dustfinger's eyes widen in disbelief as he pushes some of his shoulder-length hair out of his face. My eyes are drawn to his face, or more accurately, the three scars that marred it, nearly covered by the stubble he's let grow. Basta gave them to him, I knew, a jealous rage that backfired on the henchman.

"Yes," Dustfinger nods slowly," she was three then...And Julianne was eleven."

Mo nods, sending me a look that meant take care of Meggie. "Come on, I'll see if I can find you some dry clothing while Juli puts Meggie to bed." Meggie scowls as I wrap an arm about her shoulders and lead her in the opposite direction that Mo and Dustfinger went in, taking her to her room.

"Who is that man," Meggie demands the moment we are alone in her room. "How does he know Mo and why do I get a bad feeling whenever I look at him?"

"You don't need to worry about him," I respond, forcing her to lie back on the bed and pull the covers over her cold feet and up to her chin. "As for why you get a bad feeling, that's just common sense." She lets out an impatient huff, turning on her side and putting her back to me. "I'm sorry, Meggie, but that's the truth of it and all you need to know right now. He'll be gone in the morning and, with luck, we'll never see him again." She says nothing as I exit her room, shutting her door behind me and making my way to Mo's workshop, dodging the numerous piles of haphazardly stacked books. I let out the breath I've been holding once I'm in the workshop, the familiar smell of leather washing over me and calming me. "How'd you find us," I ask, meeting Dustfinger's gaze head on," Why can't you just leave us alone and stalk someone else?" He looks away from me, absently petting Gwin. The marten snaps at him, crawling into Dustfinger's pack to sleep. Mo opens the door soon after, holding an old tray with three cups and a teapot. I move to take it from him and set it down on the work table behind the Fire-Dancer.

He smells of rain and the woods, a pleasant scent that I could easily grow used to. I blush again, hiding my face behind a curtain of dark hair. "Do you have the book?" The book, that's what his visits are always about; the book that ruined everything. I pass out the cups of tea, handing Mo his with a smile and avoiding looking at the other man.

"It doesn't matter if I have the book," Mo tells him in his entrancing voice, one that most envy—my voice only sounds like that when I sing, but I can't read things out of books like him, I've tried. "Even if I did, Capricorn doesn't know where we are or if we even _have_the book." But we did, safely hidden away in a place where it can do no harm. I hate that book, more than I've ever hated anything in my life and I can probably come up with a long list.

"Don't underestimate him!" Dustfinger's voice is gruff, but likable enough. "He'll do anything, and I do mean _anything_, to get his hands on it." His blue eyes cut to me for a moment before returning to Mo's worried face. My eyes widen at his implication, shuffling slightly on the stool I'm sitting on. Mo's eyes drop to the floor, one of his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "I know that look, Silvertongue; you're too stubborn for your own good. You disregarded my warning before and didn't leave in time to escape his men—you saw what they almost did to Julianne!" I flinch at the unpleasant memory, hating Dustfinger for bringing it up. With closed eyes, I could see the men towering above me, gagged at the memory of the minty smell of Basta's breath as he straddled my stomach. With a shudder, I push the memories way and focus back on the conversation. "Come with me and I'll take you to him." He stirs some sugar into his tea, the sound loud in the heavy silence. "Capricorn thinks highly of your gift and he wouldn't allow harm to befall your children if they do as they're instructed. He's been looking for a new singer and the little bird would make him happy." Another nickname I despised; I don't even know why he calls me little bird.

"I don't know," Mo says, unsure. "I'll have to think about it; when do you suppose the others will get here?"

"Soon!"

"Come back tomorrow after one thirty; I'll be picking Meggie up before then. Do have somewhere to sleep?"

"I always find a place—I'm managing better these days, though it is still much too fast for me." He chuckles dryly, shouldering his pack and making Gwin let out an annoyed sound. He holds out his hand to shake Mo's again, then mine. He gives me a long look, as though seeing something in my eyes he didn't quite like. I leave the room before either of them, going straight to my room and curling up on my bed with my blankets pulled up to my chin. Tonight would be long and filled with nightmares, as it always was after a visit from Dustfinger, and tomorrow would be even longer.


	2. Secrets Heading South

**Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong****  
><strong>Move along, move along like I know you do<strong>  
><strong>And even when your hope is gone<strong>  
><strong>Move along, move along just to make it through<strong>  
><strong>Move Along—All American Rejects<strong>**

I woke up early as I usually do and begin to pack a couple of bags. It was always like this after we got a visit from Dustfinger; pack and leave the next morning. I throw some clothes into my backpack as well as the chargers for all my stuff. In my Walking Dead messenger bag I put three of my favorite books (_Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Vampire Academy,_and _A Game of Thrones_), a couple of my favorite movies (_A Knight's Tale_and_Dragonheart_), my portable DVD player, and my iPod. I drag those bags into the living room, taking two Tylenol tablets and a thermos of hot chocolate from Mo on my way. "You should put something warm on," he tells me, gesturing towards the nightgown I was currently dressed in.

"Oh yeah," I grumble, voice still rough with sleep. I shuffle back into my room, changing into black sweats, a Supernatural tee shirt, and my worn tennis shoes; my long hair goes into a ponytail and I rim my eyes with a little bit of eyeliner—not wanting to look like a raccoon. "That better," I ask dad as I walk back into the living room, plopping down on the couch and clutching my camo pillow tightly to my chest. He nods distractedly, telling me to put my stuff in the van while he woke up Meggie.

As I walk outside towards the barn I notice that the rain had stopped, but it was indeed chilly—making me yearn for the hoodie my best friend, Tyler, had given me as a late birthday present a month ago; it still smelled like the cologne he wore, a scent that helped to comfort me. Sighing, I throw my bags in the back of the camper van I've grown so used to, the only real stable thing in our lives at this point. Looking around me, I still wonder what it would be like to have a horse again—my old one we had to sell when Capricorn started to chase us; poor Drogo. I'd asked dad when we first moved in if I could have another horse or at least a dog, but we were gone too much to take care of one; the closest thing we have to a pet is the cat that comes around every now and then for a saucer of milk. I sigh as I look around me, expecting Capricorn's men to jump out of the shadows at any moment.

"Have you put bricks in here?" I jump at Mo's strained voice, having grown used to being alone in the barn. I turn and find Mo and Meggie walking towards me, Mo carrying Meggie's book box, no doubt filled to the bursting. "Juli, why don't you run inside and get your box as well?" I nod and run into the farmhouse and into my little corner of the living room. My box wasn't nearly as big as Meggie's, but it was still quite heavy from all the books inside of it—painted a light purple with Azalea flowers painted at random intervals, along with _Juli's Book Box_on the front in swirly letters. Mo meets me halfway back to the van, taking the box from me and telling me to get in and eat.

I climb inside the colorful van and settle in my spot, knees brought up to my chest and my camo pillow under my head. That's the good thing about being comfortable with curling into a ball—your spots can be tiny and warm. Reaching under the blanket piled in the floor, I pull out my digital camera and snap a quick picture of the farmhouse to put in my scrapbook; making sure to keep a record of all the places we have lived.

Mo climbs into the driver's side, starting it up. "South we go," he says, pulling out of the barn and driving down the driveway. I never turn to face the front again, instead watching as the house I had hoped to permanently call home began to shrink into the distance. I think I'll miss the barn the most; it was a place I could go when I just wanted to be alone and neither Meggie nor Mo would bother me there. Mo suddenly slams on the brakes, causing me to topple backwards with a small shout.

Dustfinger was standing at the end of our driveway and he did not look very pleased.

Dustfinger had been waiting just behind the wall where Meggie and I had spent countless hours playing on, pretending it was a high wire and people were cheering below us or something silly like that. Dustfinger stood with his arms crossed over his chest, obviously shivering since his coat was discarded and he was dressed in simple pants, shoes, and a sweater; his dry hair nearly reached his shoulders and held a slight wave to it. My breathing hitches as Mo switches off the ignition and gets out of the van. Could he have contacted Capricorn so quickly? I quickly follow Mo out of the van, not wanting him to face the Fire-Dancer alone if Capricorn's men were lurking in the shadows.

Dustfinger gives Mo and I that strange smile of his, leaning casually against the wall. "Where were you going in such a hurry, Silvertongue?" He moves his gaze to me, taking in my tense stance, noting that I was prepared for a fight. "Relax, you should know by now that I do not like to fight, little bird."

"You know why we're in a hurry," Mo replied," my reasons haven't changed." Mo stays beside the open van door, as tense as I am—Dustfinger pretends not to notice as he inspects his boots.

"Can I know where you're going," he asks, looking up at us again. "It took me four years to find you last time and you're lucky that it was me and not Capricorn's men." I glare at him, unsure whether or not to trust him when Mo says that we're going south. Great, that means Elinor and she's not too fond of me since last time we met I accidentally spilt chocolate milk in her lap. Well, everyone _thinks_it was an accident. "Well, your mind is made up; might I accompany you so that I'm not the one who has to give Capricorn's men the bad news?" He picks up two bags that were sitting by the wall; bags Mo had given him so many years ago. I didn't know how to feel that the past nine years of his life fit inside two bags and a backpack that was occupied by the horned marten.

I look from Dustfinger to my dad, already knowing what his answer would be. "Please," Dustfinger continues to beg, looking like the stray dog that came by my school every now and again around lunch time. "You of all people know what they're capable of…besides, don't you owe me?" I glare at him, wanting to hit him for playing that card. In fact, I start forward and raise my fist to strike Dustfinger when he quickly grabs the wrist, stopping my fist a few inches from his face.

"Juli," Mo says in a defeated tone," calm down, he's right." Dustfinger turns me to face Mo, releasing my wrist, picking up his bags and shouldering his backpack. Grumbling under my breath, I cross my arms over my chest and walk over to Mo again. This was some major bull shit.

"Hold it," Meggie shouts, hopping out of the van," why are we running and who is Capricorn?!" Mo and I turn to face her, pleading looks on our faces. Twelve was way too young to learn about the real things that go bump in the night; I wasn't about to ruin Meggie's childhood.

"Meggie, just get back in the van," I beg softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. Mo gives her a look that he's given me on several occasions: _just do as I say; I'll tell you when you're ready_. But no one is ever ready to learn that an evil tyrant is chasing their family because their dad had the ability to read things out of books.

"I'll get back in when someone tells me the truth." Meggie shrugs off my hand and runs until she's standing in the middle of the road. I stare down at the ground, not about to be the one to tell her anything, but I didn't miss the incredulous look Dustfinger sends Mo and I. "What's so wrong with telling me? I have a right to know!" Meggie was furious, her pale face flushed tomato red.

"This is something you don't need to know," Mo tells her, looking older than he really was. "Please, just get back in the van."

"You haven't told her," Dustfinger asks in a quiet voice. Mo shakes his head, but my eyes never leave my dirty shoes, unable to meet Dustfinger's accusing stare. "It's dangerous that she doesn't know and, anyway, she's not a baby anymore." But she was still so innocent and this news could corrupt that.

"It would change nothing if she knew," Mo says just as quietly.

"What's dangerous," Meggie asks from her spot in the deserted road. "I'll not move an inch until I'm told!"

Dustfinger turned to face Meggie, taking slow steps towards her as she takes a couple steps back. "You were very small when you first met him, so I have no doubt you can't remember him." I glare at the Fire-Dancer. It wasn't his right to tell her these things, but Mo made no move to stop him. "Capricorn is the type of man that would feed a bird to a cat simply to watch as it is torn to pieces." Dustfinger kept advancing on Meggie and she kept going backwards. "Nothing gives Capricorn more pleasure than scaring people until they can no longer stand. Your father has something Capricorn wants, something he'll stop at nothing to obtain." Dustfinger was too close to Meggie for comfort now and I start towards them. "His men dress in all black—their leader is the only one to wear a white shirt—and you better hope you don't meet any of them, but if you do, keep yourself small."

I grab his arms and pull him away from my sister, Lapis Lazuli eyes glowing with rage. "Someone should teach you when to shut up," I growl at him. "Now get in the van." He sits next to me in the very back, sitting his backpack gently in his lap. "Nothin' is gonna come flying out of there, is it?" Dustfinger gives me a strange smile, pulling Gwin out for me to see.

"We obviously have quite a journey ahead of us, so I thought I'd introduce Meggie to someone," Dustfinger says to no one in particular. Gwin climbs up Dustfinger's arm, its bushy tail flicking in my direction causing me to sneeze. Meggie looks at the marten with a fascinated expression. "You can pet him." She looks hesitant. "Don't worry; he doesn't bite when he's sleepy."

"Yeah, it's when he's wide awake that you have to worry," I quip, munching on a pop tart. Doing as I usually do on car trips, I zone out, ear buds in and the song Paralyzer by Finger Eleven beginning to play; slowly, my eyes begin to close as sleep overtakes me.


	3. A House Full of Books

_In the dark of the night I was_ _tossing and turning._  
><em>And the nightmare I had was as<em> _bad as can be._  
><em>It scared me out of my wits, a corpse falling to bits!<em>  
><em>Then I opened my eyes and the<em>  
><em>nightmare was me!<em>  
><strong>In the Dark of the Night-Anastasia<strong>

When I wake up it's just Meggie and me in the van, Mo and Dustfinger standing outside and enjoying the fresh air; stretching lazily, I push my Doctor Who blanket off onto my messenger bag—the TARDIS blue slightly clashing with the blood-red color of the bag. I open the door and move to stand next to Dustfinger, glaring at the familiar iron gate that used to terrify me when I was younger—the spikes on top looking sharp enough to impale any who were brave enough to climb over them. With a shiver, I turn my gaze to the right and a smile appears as my eyes find the lake I used to swim in with Resa while Mo was working and Meggie wasn't born yet. Meggie joins us a short time later, pushing some of her blonde hair off her face and behind her ears.

"Beautiful, isn't it," Mo asks, wrapping an arm around Meggie's shoulders and holding her close. He then proceeds to tell her about the abandoned castle that was barely visible atop a hill; I used to sneak up there at night to see the robber's ghost, but always fell asleep before anything happened. Mo would come get me the next morning, always talking about how dangerous it was, but never making me stop my trips.

"Where does Elinor live," Meggie asks softly, resting her head on Mo's shoulder, "Surely not behind that scary gate."

"Where else would the wicked witch choose to live if not behind something scary and terrible," I grumble, kicking a pebble down the slope that leads to the lake. Mo gives me a stern _don't-frighten-your-sister _look that I'd seen a lot when I was younger and was still going through my ghost and goblins stage. Heh, I loved that stage and every month or so I'll reread one of my many urban legends/scary stories books—most of which are in my book box. "Sorry, Mo, but she's not the most likable person out there. Actually, I've met muggers that I like better than Elinor." Thorny bushes grew on either side of the gate, hiding a good deal of her property.

"Looks like you have rich relations," Dustfinger whispers in my ear, making me shiver.

"Richer than any of the others, but she'll be poorer than dirt if she doesn't cut back on her spending; she has more books than any library I've ever been in; in fact, the town librarian comes to _her _for advice." Mo nods, pushing the gate open partially with a grunt.

"What are you doing?" Meggie looks surprised; her bright blue eyes bright. "We can't just drive in." That's when I noticed where her gaze was focused: a sign nearly hidden by the hedge. _Private Property. No Unauthorized Entry. _Good ole Elinor, always shooing away people that might bug her or fuck up her precious book collection.

Mo laughs as he pushes the gate further open. "Don't worry," he assures her," the only thing Elinor guards with an alarm is her library." Dustfinger glances around nervously, looking for something beyond the gate. I grin devilishly, starting for the van.

"Her dogs are pretty nasty though," I quip, throwing Dustfinger a wink over my shoulder. The others joined me in the van soon after, Mo starting it and driving past the gates and up the winding driveway, past fir and chestnut trees whose branches twined together above us to make a tunnel—hiding from us the purple skies of twilight. The driveway seems to go on forever and the longer we drove the more anxious Meggie and Dustfinger appeared. Finally the trees gave way to gravel and the rose beds that Elinor took so much pride in. She won an award every year for them and often wrote to Mo in order to boast about it. Personally, I couldn't grow flowers to save my life, but I heard that my biological mother was great at it. My mom is dead though and I had no memory of her, just stories Mo tells me when I'm sad. Elinor's house is enormous, bigger than any place I've ever seen. Her station wagon was parked outside, rusting slowly from all the weather it's had to endure. I have no doubt that the garage is reserved for some more of her prized books. The house is as welcoming as the gate was, but my eye was drawn to it nonetheless; the design is interesting yet cold and forbidding. The shutters are tightly closed as they so often were back when I was here a lot. Mo pulls the van up beside the other car, putting it in park and cutting the ignition before he got out. "All ye who enter here beware," I say softly as we approach the front door," as dead men tell no tales."

Dustfinger eyes me nervously, sticking closer to me than before—Meggie holds onto Mo. She was too young the last time we were here to remember that it used to be warm and friendly. The window closest to the door is barred with a sign below it: _If you intend to waste my time on trivia, you'd better go away now! _Mo presses on a little white button making a bell ring inside the house. "Stop ringing that damn bell!" She sounds like her attitude hasn't changed one little bit.

"She sounds lovely," Dustfinger quips under his breath. I scoff lightly, nodding my head as the door swings open. Elinor is older than I remember, perhaps mid-fifties, though the last time I saw her was nine years ago. Her gray hair is falling out of a sloppy bun, her face is stern, and her dark eyes remind me of an endless pit. She dressed as my school librarian did in a sweater, skirt, and flats—a string of pearls around her small neck. She seemed pleased to see Mo, even went as far as to ask why he didn't visit more often, and then he saw the rest of us. She obviously didn't trust Meggie because she's still a kid, she didn't trust me because I was a brat way back when, and Dustfinger just kind of creeped her out.

"To what do I owe the pleasure," she asks, shooting Dustfinger distrustful glances. "Have you finally decided to take pity on my poor books?"

"Yes, that's why I've come," Mo nods, easily taking on the lie, "a commission I received was postponed and it was so late that I had no one to watch Meggie while Juli went to college."

"I suppose she's outgrown the playpen." Elinor's tone is cold as she sneers down at my sister. Her gaze moves back to the man beside me. "Do I know him? My God, don't tell me he's gotten Julianne pregnant?!" My eyes widen at that and I take a couple of hasty steps away from Dustfinger, shaking my head vigorously.

"No, Dustfinger is...A friend of mine. Surely you have room enough for him for a night or two. He's traveling south."

"Only if he keeps his filthy hands off my books and is fine with an attic room—my library has grown so much and I'll have to move some things around in order to house the three of you alone." She moves back into the house, waving a hand behind her for us to follow. Inside the doorway are two floor-to-ceiling bookcases, white as the walls and stark contrast to the rest of the bookcases that fill the house. Julianne, you know where everything is and the rules, why don't you take your friend on up to his room and help him clean things up a bit."

"Yes, ma'am," I nod, grabbing a handful of Dustfinger's coat and pull him after me through the halls and up the stairs. All of Elinor's books are organized and alphabetized, a far cry from how our books are back home. The attic room is small and covered in dust, filled with stacks of Elinor's less valuable books that she could really care less about. Some stacks are so tall that they tower over me and sway back and forth at the slightest movement in the room. In short, it's claustrophobic. Dustfinger looks over at me again with raised brows. "Okay, um, how about we start with opening a window and letting in some fresh air?"

* * *

><p>When we were finally done with Dustfinger's room and had stumbled down to the kitchen where everyone else was setting the table for dinner, we were both sore and covered in dust. "When was the last time you've been up there, Aunt Elinor," I ask, plopping down in my chair with Dustfinger following suit on the other side of me. "You have spiders up there that's basically made a home in some of those books."<p>

"They weren't very happy about being evicted either," Dustfinger adds dryly, flicking a spider web off his shirt. Elinor rolls her eyes, claiming that she had no spiders in her home and that we must have imagined the whole incident. Mo sends me a sympathetic look, knowing that spiders scared the living daylights out of me. Supper that night consisted of bread, cheese, and some overcooked ham that Elinor had made herself. It hadn't been until she set the meal out that I remembered that my aunt couldn't cook and often ordered takeout when it was just her, but she had guests, so she felt the need to dust off her kitchen pots and get to work. No doubt there were some spiders there as well that ended up smashed or kicked out of their home.

Dustfinger cuts off a slice of ham and slips it into his pack for Gwin to munch on and I smile until I catch Mo and Elinor whispering and Meggie's questioning look. She is still curious as to what is going on and I bet she'll find out sooner than I like. Tonight just feels wrong, like the darkness we tried to escape has followed us and is wrapping around me like a blanket—suffocating me. After picking at his food, mainly moving it around so it looked like he had eaten, Mo stands up and excuses himself. "I'd like to examine the books one more time to see which one I should start with tomorrow." He places a light kiss on Meggie's forehead and my cheek. "Goodnight, girls, Elinor, Dustfinger." Elinor and Dustfinger give him nods before going back to what they were doing.

Meggie left soon after, using the bathroom as an excuse to spy on Mo; I know that's what she was doing, she was too agitated and curious to be doing anything else. I shake my head, feeling sick to my stomach. "I'm going to turn in."

"But you've barely touched your ham," Elinor complains. "And besides, I doubt you even remember where your room is located; after all, it's been nine years since you've visited."

"Second floor, first door on the left, and I bet it's still painted royal blue with little lights on the ceiling that look like stars." She shifts in her seat, nodding and waving me off. I smile, the last time I had been here I was going through an astronomy phase—I couldn't find enough information on the subject. Now though, the unknown scared me. Now I knew of the bad things that live in the dark places of the world.


	4. Only a Picture

_Every day is so wonderful__  
><em>Then suddenly it's hard to breathe<em>  
><em>Now and then I get insecure<em>  
><em>From all the pain, I'm so ashamed<em>  
><em>**Beautiful-Katherine McPhee**

When I open my eyes the next morning the dread hadn't gone away, it settled in my belly and made me nauseous. I slide my window open and breathe in some cool air before starting my morning routine: a quick shower to wake me up a little more; dressing in a short Dalek skirt, a plain, light yellow tee, and flip-flops; brush out my dark brown hair; brushing my teeth. By the time I was done I was scared that Elinor was already burning my food, but I was proved wrong when I entered the kitchen—Dustfinger and Gwin were the only ones there. I couldn't help the sigh of relief that escapes as I walk over to the refrigerator and start pulling out the necessary ingredients for omelets. "You look pitiful," Dustfinger remarks, stealing a piece of bread and feeding it to Gwin; the little marten sat on the kitchen table and I smile, imagining Elinor's face if she walked in and saw Gwin. She loved that table and swore that it came from a monastery.

"And for that comment you've won yourself an empty stomach, Dusty." He smiles at the nickname, returning his attention to Gwin. "How'd you sleep?" He shrugs, not looking up at me but I still saw the dark circles under his eyes. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't had a good night of sleep in years. Hell, he probably hadn't in this world. I lower my eyes back to the task at hand, pouring some eggs into a bowel with pieces of bacon, ham, and cheese and stirring it up before pouring the mixture into a skillet. Mo often said that I made omelets just like my mom used to—a compliment that made me blush whenever I heard it. My mom was great at stuff like this—she had a green thumb, she could cook really well, was captain of the softball team, and she was excellent at writing. The only traits I shared with her seemed to be my eyes, dyslexia, and cooking skills.

"That smells really good." I nod, taking a deep breath myself, my mouth watering.

"C'mere, Dusty." He leaves Gwin on the table and walks over to me, taking the spatula. "Make sure that doesn't burn while I start the toast." Dusty looks unsure as he stares down at the skillet, poking at the eggs with the spatula as though they might bite him. "What, you never cook omelets before?"

"No, I usually settle for simpler meals, especially in this world. My favorite thus far is called beanie weenies—they come in these little cans and they taste magnificent." I snort, giving the man a smile and deciding to cook his favorite meal for lunch along with macaroni and cheese. A few minutes later finds Dustfinger and me sitting at the table and eating breakfast, Gwin enjoying a piece of toast I'd made specifically for him. We sit in a comfortable silence, eating and daydreaming. It was nice until Elinor walked in and screeched when she caught sight of Gwin sitting on her prized table.

"Get that animal off of my table!" Dustfinger quickly does as she says, nearly jumping ten feet in the air. Gwin hisses at her, unused to the strange old woman. "I'll have you know that the only animals welcome in my kitchen are flies and that's merely because I can't keep them out." Elinor is practically shaking by the time Dusty had taken Gwin outside, calmed down only by the smell of fresh bacon. She takes a suspicious bite of the omelet I'd set aside for her, her eyes widening in pleased shock afterwards. "Well, it appears you inherited your mother's ability to cook." _That's basically all I got from her though_, I think glumly. Mo joins us few moments later and Meggie a few more after that.

"Where's Dustfinger," she asks, looking around the kitchen as if she expected him to pop up at any time; which, knowing Dustfinger, was extremely possible. I look up at her over the top of my book, sending her a wink as Elinor's starts in about the marten on her table again. She'd told Mo about it earlier and now it seemed it was Meggie's turn to get an earful. Focusing on my book gives me a headache, the letters seeming to scramble on the page in a mad dash to get away from my eyes but never quite making it. My sore eyes left the words blurry and even harder to read.

"What do you want him for," Mo asks, taking the book from me and nodding towards the glass of what Elinor swore was cocoa sitting in front of me. Meggie quickly scarfs down a slice of toast and some of the bitter cocoa, mutters a hasty excuse, and sprints out of the house to the backyard where Dustfinger was practicing with the tools of his trade. I take a swallow of the cocoa, fighting my gag reflex the entire time. "You should take a break from reading and go outside, maybe show Meggie that castle you used to explore." I laugh, picturing all the ghosts and monsters I used to imagine were there, hiding in the shadows. Now we have real monsters though, between Capricorn and taxes I don't know what to do anymore.

"I have to memorize this poem for my drama class," I explain, focusing on the words once more. "If I don't, Mister Flanagan will have my head." That Irishman had it out for me because I signed up for a class that involves reading and I wasn't good at reading. "Besides, you know how stubborn I am—if I can finish the Hobbit in four weeks, then I can memorize a dang poem in two." Mo shrugs, taking the book from me and walking off with it, knowing I'd follow him. Elinor looked down on all those who chose not to read and, thanks to my dyslexia, I had a difficult time sticking to books. I follow him into the room next to the library that would be Mo's workshop for the time being until he deemed it safe to go back to our house, pack up our things, and move again. The room, like everywhere else in the house, was filled with books; the ones in the workshop were about beetles, insects, and arachnids. The table she expected Mo to use was minuscule compared to the one he used back home.

"No," he grumbles to himself as he sets my book down on top of a glass display case," this won't due at all." I crinkle my nose at the musty smell; obviously this room hasn't been opened in a long while. It had a few less spiders than the attic had, but by the time we'd gotten it a little organized I was tired again and ready to collapse with my book. Mo swears to himself, under his breath and barely heard, but I knew that this room wouldn't do in the slightest if he really wanted to get any work done on those books. Meggie comes in soon after, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink, but she stares in disgust at the display cases filled with bugs pinned to cardboard just as I had. "This room is much too small for me to get any real work done, but the attic has been filled with crates of books so it is cluttered as well." Meggie runs her hand over the spines of the books, packed tightly together on honey-colored shelves.

"Just ask her for a bigger room," she suggests, taking the book from me that I had just gotten back and began to flip through it. It was a collection of Edgar Allen Poe's Poems and had illustrations throughout the book that she enjoyed to look at. Mo shakes his head and shrugs, sorting through the books on the table and trying to decide where to place them that Elinor wouldn't have a fit about. "Why haven't you ever read aloud to me?" The question catches Mo and me off guard, and I just sit there, staring at my little sister with my mouth hanging open. Mo turns to face her abruptly, his dark brown eyes suspicious.

"You've been talking to Dustfinger, haven't you? What did he tell you," Mo demands to know and I can't decide which to be more surprised about: Meggie's question or Mo's harsh reaction.

"Nothing, Mo; I was just wondering, that's all." She hands my book back to me before picking up another and flipping through it absently without really paying any mind to it. Mo turns so his back is facing Meggie and me, laying his tools out on the table carefully. It was obvious to all of us that Mo was distracted and upset because there was silence in the place of whistling. Normally he whistled The Bare Necessities, from _Jungle Book_, but just now he worked in silence. Meggie continues to stare at him and I continue to stare at Meggie, the dread I'd felt earlier comes back, nearly choking me with its strength. After what seems like forever, Mo finally turns to face us again, sitting on the edge of the small table.

"I just don't like reading aloud, it's uncomfortable for me and you know that." The tension in the room rises as Meggie opens her mouth with another question. I rise quickly and leave the room, feeling dizzy in the stuffy room. If I could just get some fresh air I'd be fine; I would be able to breathe and breathing is good to clear the head. I rush past Elinor, nearly knocking the old woman down in my haste to get away. As I was shooting out the back door I crash face first into Dustfinger's chest, knocking us both to the ground; me on top of him.

"God, sorry...I-I just, I had to..." I trail off, blushing as I realize the position Dustfinger and I are in. "I'm sorry." I roll off of him onto the grass, laying there for a moment and taking long, deep breaths that did nothing for me.

"Are you alright, little bird," he asks with a hint of worry in his tone. I stare up at the sky, not saying anything. I was shaking as the panic attack continued, I hadn't had one in years and I can't remember any technique to calm me down or make my breathing come any easier.

**Dustfinger**

Dustfinger stares down at Julianne, unsure whether to leave her where she lay or if he should go get Silvertongue. Juli's chest rises and falls rapidly, as if she can't get enough air in her lungs. He'd seen something like this once before when his youngest daughter was barely a year old, in this world they were called panic attacks—his instincts kick in and he drops to his knees as the physician had instructed him all those years ago, forcing her into a sitting position to lean against his chest and rubbing her back. It always seemed to help Rosanna and it helped Juli now. "Is that better," he asks, holding Juli closely as her breathing evened out.

"F-fine," she stutters, resting her head on his chest. He tensed slightly, never had he been so close to someone in the nine years that he's been here, but he allowed it because Juli needed the comfort. Her scent drifts upwards to him, a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla; it was a nice scent, a far cry from his wife's orange-y smell. "Will you come explore with me," she asks timidly, a shy little bird afraid to venture out on her own. "There's this castle I'd like to visit again, but Mo doesn't like me going up there alone." Dustfinger thinks for a moment, deciding there's nothing for him to do for the rest of the day. It was nightfall when he would be busy, but Julianne would have no knowledge of that."

"I'd love to." His answer appeared to surprise her, her shockingly blue eyes wide as she looked up at him. It was then he noticed the gold in them, striking against the blue—they resembled Capricorn's favorite stone, Lapis Lazuli, or something of the like. He could see the appeal now, the allure that drew Capricorn in; he was having a problem not leaning in and drowning in her large, expressive eyes. He stands suddenly, bringing Juli up with him. "What are we waiting for?" She smiles, taking his hand and beginning to run.


	5. Fire and Stars

_I won't notice _  
><em>Or pay you no mind <em>  
><em>Boy I couldn't care less <em>  
><em>What you do with your time <em>  
><em>Your fingertips on my hips <em>  
><em>Just move me like one of a kind <em>  
><strong>When you put Your Hands on me-Christina Aguilera<strong>

The day seemed to pass by quickly, Dustfinger and me spending it in the ruins, swapping ghost stories. He knew a great many concerning the White Women from his world, and I told him tales of Blackbeard and Headless Nicole—a woman who had lost her head years ago during a terrible storm. It was said that she still rode these lands on her mare, looking for her lost child. Dusty smiled more than I'd ever seen him, speaking without his usual guard up and letting a few things about his family slip past his lips. Roxane, his wife, was the best singer in Ombra; he told me how he received his scars. I wince at the pain he must have felt at the time, glad that the fairies had taken pity on him and healed him. "Your world seems so strange," I tell him as we walk towards Elinor's home," but I guess you feel the same about this one." He shrugs a shoulder, stopping under the shade of an oak tree. "I don't see how you've managed to adjust so well; I mean, I know you've had nine years, but still...It just seems so...So..."

"Traumatic," he supplies with a laugh," life changing? It was, but I've learned a few things, enough to get by okay." I smile sadly, looking down at my flip-flops. He puts a finger under my chin and lifts my head so that I look up at him. "Don't be sad, little bird, it wasn't your tongue that enticed me into this world." His smile is small, almost reluctant, but it's still there and it's real. "Stop fretting over mistakes that are not your own." His eyes move over my face, as if taking in every detail. Slowly, very slowly, he leans forward and places his lips on mine in an almost imperceptible kiss. The hand holding my chin moves to cup one side of my face, pulling me closer and making sure I could feel his lips against my own. They're soft and tasted sweet, like honey but a little different—almost a spicy sweet.

I moan, moving my hands to the back of his head, lips parting an allowing his tongue inside to dance with my own. It wasn't like the authors said it was, there were no fireworks or butterflies in my tummy; it made me light-headed, but that might be because of the lack of oxygen. It was strange, to be kissing the man that I've disliked since I was eleven, but stranger still...I enjoyed it. When we pulled apart, my breathing was coming in gasps and his eyes were half-closed. "Dustfinger," I whisper, leaning against the tree. He takes a deep, shuttering breath, stepping away and jogging towards the house. I stare after him, wondering what the hell just happened. "What is wrong with me? That kiss wasn't enjoyable." But no matter how much I tried to tell myself otherwise, that kiss had been the best one I've ever gotten and it wouldn't be leaving my mind anytime soon.

With one last shake of my head, I start forwards again, determined not to think about the moment Dusty and I shared for the rest of the night. He obviously wasn't thinking at the time and I was a little giddy after spending time in the ruins.

By the time I made it back to the house it was nearly time for dinner and I was filthy. "Go take a shower," Elinor scolds," I won't eat with a child that smells like she hasn't bathed in two weeks."

"I'm twenty," I mutter, stomping up the stairs to my room and into the bathroom. I made quick work of the shower, washing as fast as I can before slipping on Tyler's oversized, black Hoodie and a pair of jeans before marching back into the kitchen with the others. Dinner that night consisted of what Elinor called spaghetti and a pre-made sauce on top. I scrunch my nose up at it, poking it with a fork to see if it would move. "I'm afraid I have no patience to toil over a hot stove, but perhaps Julianne or your friend can cook."

"You know I can, but you made me clean up before I was allowed to do anything else." She looks accusingly at Dustfinger and he shrugs.

"I burn food more often than naught," he admits.

"Mo can cook," Meggs points out, following my example and poking at her food with her fork. Elinor gives her a look that could freeze water, stating that Mo's job was to repair her books, not cook. I zone out, knowing tonight's conversation would be as boring as yesterdays had been. Elinor rarely had anything interesting to say, at least, not that I've found. I continue moving the soggy noodles around in my bowl, too queasy to eat. It felt like I had two butterflies cage fighting in my stomach. Maybe the next home we move to will have another barn; a place where I can find solitude when I was stressed or frustrated. Hesitantly, I take small bite of my food, looking over at Dustfinger and instantly noting the box of matches he was playing with. Aunt Elinor hates fire almost as much as she hates illiterates.

"I'd say someone here has the wrong idea about fire," Dustfinger says pointedly," it bites like a fierce little animal, admittedly, but you can tame it." Afterwards he struck a match and popped it in his mouth; pulling out seconds after, burnt out, and placed it on his empty plate with that strange smile of his—not the real one he'd shown me earlier. "You see, Elinor; it's quite easy to tame." Meggie looked amazed at the trick, Elinor seemed unaffected, and Mo had a scolding expression on his face. Dustfinger puts the match book away meekly, agreeing to Elinor's no candle rule. I shrugged the incident off, having seen that trick many times before when he'd come to visit. He'd stopped the tricks when he realized I didn't care, that I wouldn't like anything he did. _But you liked that kiss today, _a quiet voice reminded me.

"Another thing," Elinor states, sending Dustfinger another pointed look," if you go out again like you did last night you'd better not be out for too long because I set my alarm at nine-thirty on the dot." She is very OCD about her alarm and controlling the things around her.

"I suppose I was lucky yesterday evening." He puts some spaghetti in his bag without Elinor noticing, Gwin's nose appearing seconds later and sniffing around for more. "The world's more to my liking at night, it's much more slow and quiet. I do have plans this evening though, and I'll need you to switch that lovely system of yours on a little later than normal."

"And pray tell, why is that?"

Dustfinger sends Meggie a devious wink before answering," I've promised this young lady a show. It begins an hour before midnight and all are welcome to attend." Elinor dabs at her face with a cloth napkin in an attempt to stall for time and think of a good excuse as to why they shouldn't do it in her yard.

"Why not in daylight, and anyway, she should be in bed by eight o'clock." I snort at her logic, taking another small bite. Meggie has been choosing her own bedtime since her fifth birthday and if she wanted to do something bad enough there was no way in hell that Elinor was going to stop her. The look Elinor sent Dustfinger was hostile, daring him to beat her reasoning; Dustfinger on the other hand is perfectly calm, a reply on his lips right after she had finished.

"The tricks I am going to show her can't be seen very well in the daytime." He leans back comfortably, as though it were his table we were all sitting at and not Elinor's. "I need to cover of night, it's always more beautiful in the dark." Meggie looked ready to burst with excitement, practically bouncing in her chair. I haven't seen her so excited since Dustfinger showed up.

"He can juggle," she exclaims," with eight balls!"

"Eleven," Dusty corrects," but juggling is for the daytime."

"Fine," Elinor scowls after looking at all of us. "I will go about my usual routine and the alarm _will _be set at nine-thirty and I will switch it off again for an hour once you're ready to start."

"That's perfect." Dustfinger bows as best he can while sitting, his nose colliding with his plate and knocking his food all over his lap and the table.

* * *

><p>I pass Dustfinger as I run up the stairs and he grabs my arm to make me stop. "Are you sure you don't want to join Meggie and me," he asks, seeming almost desperate despite his calm demeanor. I bite my lip, looking up the stairs at the library doors. Mo would be binding books tonight and I'd promised to help him earlier so he and I could talk.<p>

"I'm sure," I answer, giving Dustfinger a reserved smile before moving up the stairs. After what happened this afternoon I was having a problem being around Dustfinger without thinking of it, but helping Mo took my mind off things, so that's what I would do. "Have a good time!" Mo is in the library instead of his workshop, having moved a table in there so he had more room and was closer to the books he needed to heal. "Hey, Mo." He gives me a distracted nod, gently placing a book on the table in front of him. It was a simple folding table you'd see at a school event, one that usually held food instead of a bookbinder's tools. I sit next to Mo, gently removing the cover of the book as is my job when I work with Mo. The rotting cover will be thrown away later after the books we do tonight have new skin.

"Is Meggie outside," he asks without looking up.

"Yes, she's so excited about tonight." He nods, whistling softly under his breath, the tune was one from Disney's Robin Hood movie. As I continue to work, my mind goes blank, focusing only on the task at hand. I never noticed as four men slip inside the library until one of them had me pulled into a standing position by my hair, a knife against my throat.

"Hello, Silvertongue," the man purrs and I immediately know who the man holding me is. Basta has found us. Mo is being held by another, unfamiliar man with an unfortunate nose. "So nice to see you again after all these years." Basta's breath smelled of peppermint like the last time I saw him, the smell making me sick. Mo struggles to get away, but I stay perfectly still, knowing full well that Basta wouldn't hesitate to cut my throat open. "Where's the book?"

"I don't know, but it's not here," Mo replies, looking desperate and scared.

"Of course it's here!" Basta's outburst makes me jump slightly, the cool blade of his knife cutting into my skin. I feel warm drops of blood running down my neck to my hoodie, shivering due to fright and disgust. "Do you want us to kill both of your children or would you rather find the damn book yourself?"

"How do you know about my other daughter?!"

"We have spies everywhere, Silvertongue. Where's the book?"

"I'll give it to you, but I'm coming along and taking it back once Capricorn has finished with it." I feel Basta shrug, moving his hand from my hair to my upper arm.

"That's fine, we were told to bring you and Julianne anyway," another man states, favoring one of his legs. "You have no idea how much faith Capricorn has in your abilities." I get why they were told to bring Mo, but why the hell do they need me?"

"Juli stays here."

"The hell she does," Basta objects," Capricorn said to bring entertainment and we all know how entertaining the little songbird can be." He leans forward, breathing in the scent of my hair. "I wonder if you're as good as I remember." I flinch away, only managing to deepen the cut on my neck. "Careful now, Capricorn doesn't like his property damaged." I meet Mo's weary gaze from across the room, begging him to do something. "Get the book." Mo sighs, shrugging off the large man behind him and moving over to a bookshelf that leans against the wall; he pushes aside a stack of books and pulls out a brown sack that contained a very precious book. "Not a bad hiding place. Take it from him, Cockerell, and let's go." The man that spoke earlier limps over and snatches the book out of Mo's hands, pushing him to get him moving. Basta keeps his firm grip on my arm but puts away his knife, pushing me ahead of him.

Parked in the driveway are two cars; an SUV and a sports car that costs more than my house. Mo, Basta, Cockerell, and I get in the silver sports car; Mo and Cockerell get in the backseat while Basta forces me into the passenger's side in the front. He leans forward to buckle my seat belt, placing a wet kiss just under my jaw. "Get off," I snarl, pushing him away from me. He chuckles as he gets into the driver's seat and starts the car.

"You're gonna wish you were a little bit nicer to me," he says, speeding out of the driveway and onto the road. "I don't handle disobedience well; just ask Dirtyfingers."


	6. What the Night Hides

_Hunting you, I can smell you - alive_  
><em>Your heart pounding in my head<em>  
><em>Watching me, wanting me<em>  
><em>I can feel you pull me down<em>  
><em>Saving me, raping me, watching me<em>  
><strong>Haunted-Evanescence<strong>

I wince as Basta throws me to the ground, keeping my eyes down as Capricorn walks over to Mo and me. His shoes come into my line of vision, black and shined so well that I could see my expression in them; I'm paler than normal and looked about ready to piss myself. My usually tame hair was all over the place due to the harsh winds blowing outside, and no matter how much I try, I cannot tame it. "Silvertongue," Capricorn greets in a quiet voice," Julianne; I trust you were treated as I instructed." I say nothing, knowing that if I said otherwise that Basta's punishment would be far worse. "Basta, the book." The slim man behind me passes Capricorn the package and I chance a glance up. Capricorn is a tall man dressed in an immaculate suit of red and black, his eyes are the color of milk, and I knew his hair would be the same color considering his eyebrows were whiter than Lucius Malfoy's. The book he pulls out isn't bound in pale green linen, but one of pale purple with golden letters on the side: _The Journey to the Center of the Earth_. Capricorn would not be pleased about this.

He throws the book at Basta's head, missing only because the other man ducked out of the way. "Is it not what you wanted?"

"Where is the book, Silvertongue," Capricorn demands in a low growl, nodding at his right hand man. Basta yanks my head back by my hair, letting the sharp blade of his knife rest in the hollow of my throat. "Either you tell me or you'll have one less daughter." Mo's eyes widen in disbelief and barely controlled anger. It dawns on me then; Elinor knew where Mo hid the book and she was curious if it was really as good as it looked—she had taken it from its safe place and replaced with another book. This could mean all our lives because of one nosy bookworm! Capricorn takes in Mo's expression with no emotion, moving over to me and yanking me out of Basta's hold only to throw me onto the ground in front of Mo. He hurriedly pulls me into a tight embrace, continuing with his silence as Capricorn sits back down on his throne. His throne room is in the main room of an old church, painted black and red to mirror the Adderhead's.

"The old woman must have the book," a new voice states, his voice making me shiver. I look at Dustfinger over my shoulder, blue eyes narrowed into a glare. He appears unfazed as he walks to stand a few feet away from Mo and me; his hands stuffed in his pockets with Gwin perched on his shoulder. The marten is munching on a piece of bread, taking the room in with its beady little eyes. Dustfinger had led Capricorn straight to us, blackmailing Mo into taking him in and kissing me to trick me into letting my guard down around him. "She has quite a nose for books; no doubt she stole _Inkheart_without Silvertongue's knowledge." Capricorn nods, examining his nails in disinterest.

"Go back to the house and get the book," Capricorn instructs," bring the girl as well." Dustfinger pauses in the doorway at Capricorn's next words. "Don't fail me, Dustfinger; you won't like the consequences if you do." Dustfinger nods without looking back, walking out of the church and leaving Mo and me to our fates.

"Coward," I scream at him, knowing he could hear me," traitorous bastard! You deserve what you got and more!" Basta chuckles, putting the switchblade back in his belt. "Worthless piece of trash!"

"She's developed a temper," Basta smiles, dark eyes raking up and down my body. He wouldn't see much, the hoodie I wear swallows me, stopping around my knees and hiding any curves I might have. The other men in the room laugh, eying me with ill-concealed hatred. Mo holds me tighter to him, both of us shaking in fear of what might happen. The only thing that stopped Basta from raping me four years ago was the frying pan Mo knocked him out with. Nothing would be able to stop them now; Capricorn won't, Mo would be taken away or held down. I'm on my own in that regard. "We'll have to break her of that little habit."

"Not tonight, Basta." At his master's words, Basta develops a look like a puppy might have after it's been kicked. "You haven't deserved your prize. Take Julianne to my quarters and lock her inside; Flatnose, lock Silvertongue in a cell." The man with the smashed nose steps forward, tearing me out of Mo's arms and pushing me towards Basta. He throws me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes and carries me further into the church and down the hall. When we get to the door to Capricorn's room, he kicks it open and drops me in an arm chair.

"You were saved tonight, Julianne," Basta sneers. "But I doubt you're that lucky tomorrow." With that he slams the door shut and leaves me alone in the room. I cried that night, more than I ever have before, and it's all because of that bastard Fire-dancer.


	7. A Mission Accomplished

_She wasn't no match for such craft, ya see_  
><em>And everyone thought it so droll<em>  
><em>They figured she had to be daft, ya see<em>  
><em>So all of them stood there and laughed, ya see<em>  
><em>Poor soul<em>  
><strong>Poor Thing-Helena Bonham Carter <strong>

I spend all of the next morning and afternoon in a state of constant worry; I haven't seen Mo since last night and no one will tell me if he is okay. Most I ask laugh at me and others mumble a curse before continuing with whatever they had been doing; Basta's the worst of them all—taunting me all the time. Capricorn's assigned him as my guard—he enjoys tipping food in the floor when I'm scrubbing so that I have to stay bent over longer. He can look all he wants, but Capricorn has ordered his men to keep at least two feet away at all times or he would have their heads. That night as I was getting ready for dinner, Basta barges into my little room and drags me away from the vanity. Capricorn wants a show.

Inside the main part of the church Basta takes his place at his master's right while an old hag kneels at his left. I stand in the middle of the room, shaking as all eyes land on me. "Quiet," Capricorn demands," our very own songbird is going to sing for us." I take a moment to calm my nerves, closing my eyes and taking a few deep breaths. What song should I sing? My mind drew a blank as I tried to think of a song. "Anytime now, Julianne." What should I do? Finally, I open my mouth and hope for the best.

"_Hey there, Rose Tyler, what's it like in your dimension? I'm a thousand worlds away, but I'm still seeing your reflection in the blue_…." I expected the men to begin raining insults down on me, but everyone was quiet—Capricorn looked at me with what might be considered the slightest bit of interest. "_My hearts are broken without you, I swear it's true. Hey there, Rose Tyler, don't you worry 'bout my safety; if I ever get in trouble I'll just run and shout allons-y, nothing new. Still got some running left to do. I'll run to you. Oh, it's what you've done to me, oh, across the galaxies. Oh, it's what you've done to me, oh, you and your Bad Wolf tendencies; what you've done to me. Hey there, Rose Tyler when I'd first regenerated I knew something now was different, new, and simply fascinating—it was you. I found love inside that box of blue, and so did you. Hey there, Rose Tyler I've got so much left to say, if it's my last chance now to tell you true, that I've wanted to say this for some time….Please don't forget me now, don't cry; Rose Tyler, I_—"

I finish with a sigh of relief—only halfway through the song, but too exhausted to continue. Capricorn claps slowly, the other men joining in and shouting for more beer. A good majority of them are already shit-faced, but the alcohol continued to flow freely. Capricorn gestures for me to approach and I do so in fear. Have I displeased him? "I'm impressed," he announces, looking and sounding anything but. "You'll sing for me every night from now on." I nod, pulling nervously on my hoodie sleeve. "Basta, why is she still dressed in those rags? The court entertainer deserves finery, don't you think?" Basta nods, quick to agree with whatever came out of Capricorn's mouth.

Basta steps forward and grabs my arm, dragging me out of the throne room and to the room connected to Capricorn's. It's basically storage—barely large enough to hold a twin sized bed, a small wardrobe, and a vanity. I'm thrown to the ground while Basta rummages through the wardrobe for suitable clothing. He grunts a few minutes later, pulling out a crimson and gold strapless dress that would stop around my knees. The colors alone made me half expect Tywin Lannister to burst in and start judging me. Basta throws the dress at me with a smile, making it clear that he wasn't going to leave the room while I dressed. I keep my back to him as I quickly strip down to nothing but my underwear, then I pull the silk material over my head and onto my body. It fit well enough, I guess, but it was a little tight across my stomach and chest; obviously the previous owner was smaller than I was.

"Come on, Julianne, don't be shy," Basta sneers, leaning against the wardrobe with his arms crossed over his chest. I ignore him, struggling to zip the dress to no avail. A new pair of hands joins mine and makes me jump—Basta laughing in response and pulling my back against his chest after helping me. "How about a thank you?" I knew what he meant by that, but I wouldn't do it willingly.

"Thank you," I whisper, trying to move away. His arms wrap tighter around my waist and he leans his head down to breathe in the scent of my hair. It can't be very appealing, I've worked all day in the heat and I haven't showered since last night. "Capricorn will kill you if he knew what you're doing." I was hoping the threat would make him move away, but he only pulls me closer to him. "Basta, no—" He spins me around and pins me against a wall, forcing me into a bruising kiss. My thoughts instantly turn to the kiss Dustfinger and I shared yesterday and compared the one I'm having now to the other. Where Dustfinger's was gentle, this one was demanding; Dustfinger's made me light-headed, this one makes me want to scream; Dustfinger's spicy-sweet taste made me thirst for more, and Basta's minty taste made me want to gag.

His tongue invades my mouth, probing and poking insistently, expecting me to just give in. He had a problem though; I'm a lot easier to piss off now than I was four years ago and he had no family member present to threaten me with. I bite down on his tongue until the coppery taste of blood fills my mouth. Basta jerks back with a scream, holding his mouth in pain. I took his moment of distraction as a good way to escape, running out of the room and down the hall. He wouldn't get his thank you from me no matter what—I'm not a weak teenager anymore and I certainly wasn't someone to just lay back and let things happen to me! As I rounded the next corner that would lead me out of the maze of doors, I run face first into someone's chest—the air leaving my lungs as I fall back onto the floor. Capricorn stares down at me without emotion, like he expected to find me here. "Julianne," he greets, picking a hair off of his suit. The events of the day catch up with me, my breaths coming quicker as darkness tinges the edge of my vision.

And then I'm lost in a sea of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>When I open my eyes, I find I'm no longer on the stone floor but on a soft bed in Capricorn's room. I knew it was his room since it was painted the same as the throne room. I'm still in the short dress, but someone had taken my shoes off and covered me with a robe of white satin. "What the hell," I grumble in a voice heavy with sleep. The room is large and the bed I'm on takes up most of it, covered in red blankets and white pillows. It reminds me of the honeymoon suite in a cheesy movie or something, all the reds only adding to that affect. I stand up, pulling the too big robe on and shuffle into the next room. The sleeves of the robe are too long and I have to be careful not to step on the end as it trails after me. In the next room Capricorn sits on an armchair, dressed in a red dressing gown while the old hag from earlier cuts his toenails.<p>

"Julianne," he acknowledges in his deep voice without even looking up," Are you any good at massages?"

"Um, I guess I'm decent," I shrug, walking over to him. He points at his shoulders, one eyebrow cocked in impatience. Gently, I place my hands where he wanted them and begin to knead the knotted flesh. He relaxed slightly under my ministrations, his head rolling forward to give me more access. _I could strangle him right now_, I think darkly, _I could and then the crows would be leaderless and in chaos_. The door to the room opens before I could move my hands where I needed them, the people that step inside making me freeze. Meggie stares at me with wide eyes, clutching a plastic bag tightly to her chest.

"Excuse me," Basta says," but the visitors have arrived and I thought you'd like to see them as soon as possible." Beside Meggie is Elinor and behind them both is Dustfinger. My eyes narrow into angry slits when I notice him, lunging forward to attack. Basta catches me before my fist could make contact, covering my mouth with his free hand to keep me from talking. Capricorn gives me a scolding look, pale eyes shining like silver dollars. They scare me and I do all I can to avoid looking at them. He gestures at the woman at his feet that she should leave—the old hag doing so reluctantly. She reminds me of a Magpie, the dark look she sends my sister making me want nothing more than to claw out her eyes.

"Where is it?" Everyone knew what Capricorn meant; the book he sent Dustfinger after again. "Don't tell me you've only brought me a girl." Capricorn stands up, the scraping sound his chair makes on the stone floor making me flinch.

"She has it," Dustfinger responds quickly, worried more about saving his own skin than the fact he just sent an innocent girl to an early grave. "It's in the bag." His eyes move from one candle flame to the next, longing in his blue eyes. "The old woman insisted on coming along; I didn't like her from the start, but Silvertongue would trust the white women if they said a nice word to him." My hands clench into fists, struggling harder to get away from Basta. I want the Fire-dancer to hurt, to worry if today's the day when he might be killed. I want to make him suffer! Capricorn walks closer to Meggie, his hands clasped behind his back. Meggs bites her lip, obviously frightened by the man in front of her just like all the rest of us.

Capricorn's too close to Meggie for comfort now as he takes all of her in. "How old is she?" His eyes look to Dustfinger for the answer, but it's Meggie who speaks, her voice defiant.

"I'm twelve! Now, where are you keeping my father?!" Yes, where is Mo being held in this despicable village? Capricorn ignores most of what my sister just said, thinking. He reminds me of Thranduil in a way; his voice is deep and calculating, he weighs his options carefully and plans everything out in advance. I shiver as his eyes pass over me again. I hate him more than I hate Dustfinger—he uses fear to manipulate people into doing his bidding. He has to do it himself in this world since his pet shadow is still lost in _Inkheart's_pages.

"In a few more years she'll be a pretty little thing, useful even. Maybe she'll resemble Julianne—we'll have to fatten her up, of course." He takes one of Meggie's arms in his hands, feeling it as if to judge how much he needed to feed her. His fingers are long; piano fingers is what Mo calls them. My fingers are short and a little fat, the nails bitten and cover in chipped orange polish. My mother had piano fingers, but she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

"Let the girls go!" I wince at Elinor's command, praying she doesn't get a beating from it. No one demanded Capricorn to do anything in this world. The old fool steps up behind Meggie, her hands resting protectively on the younger girl's shoulders. "I don't know what's going on here and I frankly don't care! You have that godforsaken book now, so let all of us be on our way!" Capricorn turns his back to her, clearly agitated.

"I told you to bring me the girl and the book, but I said nothing about the old woman." Dustfinger shrugs, sitting on the edge of a table. He pinches the flame of one of the many candles between two fingers—taking some comfort in its warm bite. I watch him closely, knowing full well that he could be the key to getting out of this place with all my limbs attached.

"And I told you that she insisted on coming; the woman's as stubborn as my daughter." The last part is a mumble and barely heard. "She didn't trust me with Meggie or the book." Gee, I wonder why that would be. Dustfinger's usually calm hands have a tremor in them as he places them in his lap. He is afraid too; he knows what Capricorn does to those who displease him. Elinor on the other hand, has a look on her face that I'm all too familiar with—it's somewhere between irritation and I-told-you-so smugness. Nothing good can come from that look.

"Listen here, fat head," she snaps, jabbing her finger against Capricorn's chest. "As a book collector, I know that all of us aren't as sane as we pretend to be, but you're the craziest one of us all!" Languidly, Capricorn puts his hands in his robe pockets, nodding at Basta. The other man lets go of me so abruptly that I fall to the floor—watching as he snatches the bag out of Meggie's grasp. He glances cautiously inside the bag as though to make sure there was only a book inside and not a poisonous snake, then he takes the book out and hands it to his master.

The expression on Capricorn's face as he leafs through the book is one of dislike and relief. "Those two know nothing?" He snaps the book closed to make sure he has everyone's full attention.

"Silvertongue told only Julianne—he didn't want Elinor and Meggie to know, so why would I spoil the surprise?" Dustfinger looks out the window into the darkness and I knew in that moment that he didn't have the courage to face what he has done. Capricorn nods, forcing me to my feet and walking me over to Dustfinger with my upper arm in his firm hold.

"Take the girl and old woman to the back of the house," he tells Basta. Basta nods, marching my family out of the sitting room. "You did well, Fire-dancer." Capricorn smiles darkly. "I think you deserve a little relaxation for tonight, don't you agree?" Dustfinger looks apprehensive, sending me nervous looks. "Julianne will join you, I'm sure you'll enjoy her—it's been nine years since you were with a woman, hasn't it?" I swallow hard around the lump building in my throat, allowing Dustfinger to lead me out to a small hut on the edge of the village; afraid of what Capricorn would do if I didn't. Dustfinger closes and bars the door behind us, moving towards the small kitchen across the room and pouring himself a drink. I stay near the door, shivering from both the cold and fear.

"Would you like something to eat or drink," he asks nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

"No."

"It will make this easier." I look at him with wide, frightened eyes, taking steps backwards until I hit the wall a few feet away. I didn't want my first time to happen like this; I want to be married first and sure that the guy would be gentle and love me. Not like this, not in some hut under an evil bastard's threats. "You're a virgin aren't you? Look, Capricorn will have that old hag of his check you tomorrow morning and if he knew nothing happened he'd give you to Basta." Feeling tears welling up, I close my eyes and hold out my hand for the drink he'd offered me. "I'm sorry, little bird." He places the glass in my hand and I take a large swallow, the amber liquid burning my throat. "Here, have some more; maybe it'll help you forget this whole night."

I grab the bottle from him, swallowing until I just couldn't anymore. My head felt light and everything surreal, like it was happening to someone else. I allow Dustfinger to hold me, let him cry into my hair as we both continue to drink from the bottle. Then it was time. He leads me into a dark room containing only a bed with rumpled sheets. I would lose my virginity tonight and although it wasn't the way I wanted to, it is better than anything Basta would do—it would be gentle and over with quick. Dustfinger would take care of me.


	8. The Betrayer Betrayed

_I think I've lost my way_  
><em>But that's just not news today<em>  
><em>Because the story's old<em>  
><em>The black and white<em>  
><em>Have gone to grey<em>  
><em>The story's old<em>  
><strong>Lost my way-Finger Eleven<strong>

Basta wakes Juli and Dustfinger the next morning by banging loudly on the bedroom door. Dustfinger frowns, knowing that Basta would be in a poor mood this morning simply because it wasn't him that got to have Julianne. Carefully, Dustfinger moves the woman in question off his chest, pulls on some pants, and opens the door—his ginger hair hanging in his eyes no matter how often he brushed it aside. Basta sneers at him, trying to look into the room, but unable to due to Dustfinger's position. He'd chosen it specifically to shield Julianne from Basta's lust-filled looks. "Capricorn wants you both in the church—Silvertongue's gonna read today."

"Alright, I'll wake Juli and then we'll meet you there." Basta looked ready to protest, but Dustfinger shuts the door in his face to spare himself that annoyance. Quietly, he moves about the room, finding a clean shirt and his coat. He smiles at Gwin, sleeping soundly in a corner. His eyes move from the marten to the woman sleeping in his bed, a blush forming on his cheeks. He felt guilty about last night, both for betraying Roxane and how good it felt to be with Julianne. He hadn't so much as touched himself since coming to this world nine years ago and last night gave him a craving—one every man develops. Shaking away the provocative images from last night, he moves over to the bed and gently shakes Juli's shoulder to wake her. Basta's impatient and would look for any excuse to barge into the room and see Juli's naked form, so Dustfinger was trying to be quick about things.

"Mm," she moans, shifting slightly as the covers left her shoulder bare," I'm never drinking again." _That's_what she's complaining about; a hangover? "You're an ass, Dusty." Gingerly, she sits up in bed, her long hair covering her breasts from his view as she stretched. He hands the woman her clothing, turning his back to her as she dressed. It would do no good to get aroused again because he was certain that what happened last night only went so well because they were both drunk. "Okay, you can turn around now." She's dressed in the same clothes as last night, the dress wrinkled but otherwise unharmed. The same couldn't be said of his favorite sweater, it had been ripped in their haste to undress. Basta opens the door seconds later, disappointment clear on his face as he looks at Julianne. It was obvious how Juli felt about Basta, absolute fear etched into her face. He forcibly shoves her ahead of him, watching her hips sway as she walks; it's an unconscious movement, one that drew the eye.

The village was quiet as it usually was, a few maids rushing to get their chores done and a few men walking around on guard duty—their rifles in hand. The village was actually full of people, but they took shifts on guarding the village, or they were in the church with Capricorn. That is especially true for today, Dustfinger notes as they're herded into the crowded room. Of course, Silvertongue will give a demonstration of his talent. Silvertongue himself is not here yet; neither is the old woman or Meggie. He cuts his gaze over to Juli, taking in her shaking hands and the terrified light in her eyes. Against his better judgment, he takes one of her hands in his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Easy, little bird," he whispers as they take their place among the sea of faces. "It will be fine." She nods, her shaking no longer so bad.

It felt nice to be next to Juli; she wasn't as beautiful as Roxane, but her voice was soothing like Silvertongue's without the repercussions that followed. Her mouth was swollen from last night, a dark pink with one tiny freckle in the middle of her bottom lip. She wasn't stick thin like a lot of women in this world, quite the opposite, she was chubby with small breasts—barely a handful, but likable nonetheless. She's like bird in some ways, he reflects, never staying still long and nervous around others. _She's my little bird_. Dear God, he was beginning to feel something for the girl!

Gwin crawls out of the pack and sits on his shoulder, his fuzzy tail draping around Dustfinger's neck like a scarf. The extra warmth was welcome as the air inside the church grew chilly. He pulls Juli closer in an attempt to warm her—she had to be freezing since she only had the short dress too wear. She looked grateful, but still refused to talk. He couldn't blame her, every word they exchanged was heard and reported back to Capricorn. Dustfinger would bet his last dollar that their activities last night were watched as well. He doesn't get the chance to contemplate spies for too much longer when the door of the church opens again to admit the Folcharts and Elinor.

If looks could kill, Dustfinger would be dead after the glare Meggie sends his way. Gwin hisses at the blonde, his tail twitching back and forth like a cat's. Meggie's eyes don't linger on his long as they move to take in the church. He follows her gaze to the botched statue of Capricorn and then to the angel statue in the corner, a black jacket placed on its wings and a pair of horns on its head. Cockerell pushes them down the center aisle at gunpoint, forcing them to bow to his master. Meggie's eyes meet his again, burning with hatred until she notices her sister—worry shows plainly when she notices her sister's frightened expression.

Dustfinger mentally flinches, but is careful not to show any real emotion on his face. Emotion could get you killed in this cursed world just as easy as in the other world. Unconsciously, he pulls out a box of matches, lighting one and staring into the flame. His thoughts turn to his own world again, Roxane's smile filling his head. He takes a deep breath expecting to smell his wife, but instead of oranges he smells cinnamon. The disappointment he usually feels in himself is replaced with a sense of home and he's not entirely sure if it's because of how familiar the church has become or because of his little bird.

"I see Dirtyfinger's playing with his best friend again." Dustfinger looks up at Basta's voice as the other man climbs the four steps needed to be beside Capricorn. "Well, here's another toy for you." A gas can is set down by Dustfinger's feet and he has a sense of bad things to come. "Set a fire for us—it's the only thing you're good at." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Juli wince at Basta's close proximity. Dustfinger's mild temper flares at that simple movement; how could any man get pleasure by making women fear him?

"I suppose you're too scared of fire to do it." He lights another match only to have Basta knock it out of his hand a moment later. "Careful, it is bad luck to do that—you know how prickly fire can be." Basta's face darkens, but Dustfinger can see the fear in his dark eyes all the same. _Yes, he still fears the fire and I can use that to my advantage_. Basta's knife hand twitches at the same moment Juli puts a hand on Dustfinger's shoulder in a gesture that made the younger man's eye twitch slightly. That struck a nerve, Dustfinger knew, another woman choosing the Fire-eater over the fire raiser.

"You're lucky I've just cleaned my knife," he spits," one more word I don't like and I'll carve a new pattern in that ugly face of yours." Calmly, Dustfinger picks up the spent matches and stuffs them in his pocket as he stands up, a little taller than Basta and barely larger than the man's boyish frame. He may be small, but he's still dangerous, especially with that knife of his. Dustfinger chances a glance in Juli's direction and it was easy to see she was trying to be brave, but failing miserably.

"Why would I light a fire now?"

"The only thing you need to worry about is making the blaze hungry and big, not one of those puny flames that you play with; the rest of us will maintain it." As Dustfinger picked up the can and carried it over to the rusted braziers, the door opens for the third time. All eyes are drawn to Capricorn as he walks towards his throne, pausing to observe his statue. Its eyes held no malice like the real man's did, and it was painted comically. The man commissioned to make it was killed for it, but Capricorn kept the statue all the same. His suit was a perfect as ever, dark red with a black undershirt and a black feather in its button hole. Behind him trailed a dozen or so of his men like crows following a breadcrumb trail.

"Good, our guests are already here." His voice echoes slightly in the silent room, bouncing off the walls. He stops in front of Silvertongue and his family. "I trust you all slept well?" Dustfinger bows his head as Capricorn continues talking about how kind he was for reuniting Silvertongue with his daughter. Juli lets out a whimper, almost inaudible as Capricorn reveals to Silvertongue the real reason he kept Meggie here; as an incentive for Silvertongue to do as he was commanded. "As for this book." That catches Dustfinger's attention, his eyes drawn to _Inkheart_. Capricorn looks at the book in disgust while Dustfinger looks at it with longing. He wants to go home so badly and now that they had the book and a competent reader the best chance he would have is right here. "This tedious, idiotic, and amazingly long-winded book, I assure you that I'll never allow myself to be spellbound by its tale. I am so tired of all those creatures that I have it in mind never to suffer them again." He signs and one of his crows move forwards, holding a box that Dustfinger knew was filled with _Inkheart_copies from across the world.

Capricorn smiles at Dustfinger, picking up a book from the box and walking over to the braziers, dropping both copies he held inside on the fresh, dry wood. Dustfinger lunges forward to retrieve them, but Basta pushes him back. "They stay where they are, Dirtyfingers," he snarls. Dustfinger takes a step back with the gas can held behind his back, feeling sick to his stomach. He would never get to go home if Capricorn did this! Basta yanks the can away with a chuckle. "I never thought I'd see the day when Dustfinger would rather have someone else light the fire." Juli moves as more of the books are thrown into the braziers—her eyes are fearful, but there's a hard resolve there also. He knew she was about to do something stupid, but he wasn't fast enough to stop her.

Juli's fist hits hard and fast against Basta's midsection, all of it faster than Dustfinger could have predicted. Basta doubles over and falls to his knees, obviously trying to get air back into his lungs. She doesn't get another chance to strike him or anyone else—Capricorn slaps her soundly across the face, knocking her to the floor. The sound is strangely loud and sends Silvertongue into a fury. The reader doesn't get far before two crows hold him back. "You need to be taught manners," Capricorn frowns," maybe I made a mistake when I sent you with Dustfinger last night—he's much too soft. Basta, you can have her tonight." Basta glares at her as he picks himself up, no doubt planning how much hell to put her through tonight. Juli fights back the tears as she stands, holding the sore side of her face. Dustfinger pulls her back to him, watching as the crows pour gas over the books and wood, the smell making his head whirl.

"Where did all those copies come from? You told me Silvertongue had the only copy left."

"I told you a lot of things, Dustfinger, and you believed what I said because you wanted to. I would expect a skilled liar to know another, but you keep doing as I ask without much thought." Capricorn smiles at him, a smile of a vile man that's never known love and never would. Dustfinger looks at the books again, his hands shaking in longing to pull at least one of them out and run and never look back. He couldn't though, Capricorn would make sure that he didn't get far—that Juli would take his punishment and Dustfinger would be forced to watch. They might do that anyway because of Juli's foolish behavior a few minutes ago. "I would have promised you the moon if it got you to do what I needed. As it is, most of my promises are empty."

The pale man brings a lighter out of his pocket, flicking it open and lighting it before throwing it on the pile of books. Dustfinger lunges again, but Flatnose grabs him this time, holding him like a misbehaving little boy while Gwin runs off to safety. The gas soaked books catch fire instantly, burning brightly in the church and filling the room with bitter smoke. Other men in the room laugh at Dustfinger's expense, Basta barring Silvertongue's path as he tries to save a book from the fire. "Let me just have one," Silvertongue begs desperately," please, I promise never to read aloud!"

"You," Capricorn asks scornfully," you're the last person I'd give that wretched book to." In a last desperate act, Dustfinger kicks out at Flatnose, nailing him in the knee and shooting forward. He sticks one hand in the fire, ignoring the burning, blistering heat as he pulls one book out; it was on fire already so he tosses it to the ground and reaches in again with his other hand, but before he could, Flatnose had him by his collar and shook him hard enough for his teeth to rattle. Basta remarks with something, but Dustfinger wasn't listening, his thoughts were on the world he was locked out of forever. Not even the pain in his hands could break him out of the pain in his heart. _Stupid, fragile, little thing_. "Dustfinger." Capricorn's voice was tired, as though he'd worked up a sweat burning the books. "Go to the kitchens and have someone see to your burns; you're no use to anyone without your hands."

For long time he just stared at Silvertongue in a shared grief, wondering if now was the time to obey, but, as always, he got up and did as he was bid—too much of a coward to stand up for himself or anyone else, not even his little bird.


	9. Treasure Island

_Got your chin held high and you feel just fine_  
><em>Cause you do<em>  
><em>What you're told<em>  
><em>But inside your heart it is black and it's hollow and it's cold<em>  
><em>Just how deep do you believe?<em>  
><em>Will you bite the hand that feeds?<em>  
><strong>The Hand That Feeds-Nine Inch Nails<strong>

Basta leers at me until Mo begins to read, then his eyes widen and glaze slightly. I close my eyes, letting my father's soothing voice wash over me—taking away any worries I had in that moment. I could see everything as he described it; the blue skies taking the place of the church roof; a pirate ship in the place of tables; treasure taking the place of food crumbs. Then it happened, coins started to fall from nowhere: gold, silver, and copper—piling up on the flagstones in heaps. I watch in terrified wonder with everyone else, everyone that is, except Capricorn. There was nothing but contempt in his pale eyes—no awe, no wonder. The men took hasty steps back to avoid the money, fearing the magic that Mo invoked. They didn't know that the money wouldn't kill them the moment they touched it. "….So that my back ached with stooping and my fingers with sorting them out," Mo finishes.

When he stopped so did the flow of money and fine grains of sand. A pile of nearby coins make a tinkling sound as an emerald green lizard emerged from them. I stare at the lizard with interest, never had I seen a familiar animal emerge from the pages of a book—except for Gwin, of course. Basta raises his arm, readying to throw his knife at the creature; Meggie saves it by crying out, the lizard darting away as Basta's knife hits right where it was a moment before.

I glare when Basta picks up his knife and points it threateningly at my sister. I stayed completely still though, knowing I was already on Basta's shit list and I don't want Meggie to be there too. Capricorn rises from his chair, clapping and looking as though nothing extraordinary had just occurred. "Not bad for the first try, Silvertongue," Capricorn acknowledges. "See that, Darius? That is what real gold looks like—not that rusted, dented tripe you read out for us. I do hope you took notes in case I ever have need of your services again." Darius is a thin, shy man with glasses that made his eyes look huge. He looks at Mo with a mix of admiration and fear. "Don't just stand there, pick it up!"

I make to follow after Elinor over to my family, but Capricorn grabs my arm and pulls me back to where I was. His cold look is enough to make me flinch and stay where I am. "Please, I just want to see my father."

"Look all you like, but you're not getting near him. He has that old woman and his youngest daughter for comfort, but you will be kept away in case he gets any ideas I do not like." He looks back at his men with his arms folded across his chest. He was impatient, and an impatient Capricorn was as bad as an angry Elinor. "Come on, how long does it take! Pick it up and sit down so Silvertongue can read the next book!" Next book; is Capricorn insane? He of all people should know that this talent comes with a price!

"The next book," Elinor snaps," why on earth does he need to read another? You have enough gold to last you two lifetimes, we're going home!" Flatnose grabs her roughly, shaking her to make a point while Basta rests a hand on Meggie's shoulder. Mo picks up a book and he and Meggie settle down on the flagstones before Mo begins to read. Whereas earlier the room had felt pleasant, this book made it hot. I was growing uncomfortable as the words knitted together in the air, readying to dump something on us and take something in return. Instead of gems or gold, we are met by a boy. He couldn't be too old, maybe fifteen or sixteen, with eyes the color of dark chocolate and slightly lighter skin to match. A dirty turban wrapped round his head kept his hair off his neck—he looked around in fear, wondering how he came to be here.

"Stop!" Capricorn has noticed the new arrival and he doesn't look pleased. I blink, my eyes heavy as I fully begin to come back to reality. I was hoping the boy was my imagination like the pirate ship had been, but the boy didn't disappear when Mo closed the book, he is real. At Cockerell's startled shout, the boy ducks and makes a run for it. He gets as far as Capricorn's statue before Capricorn's men stop him.

"Fulvio's gone," one of the men shouts.

"Get rid of the boy, Silvertongue, and bring back Fulvio." Mo has a look of hopeless frustration on his face when he glances up at Capricorn.

He'd explained this a thousand times to Dustfinger and now he would explain it to Capricorn. "I _can't_," he says," just because you don't believe me doesn't make it a lie. Go ask Dustfinger and he'll tell you the same thing!" The men move dangerously close to Mo and I grow worried at their expressions of hate and distrust. Two men hold the boy still, both looking uneasy.

"Back to your places!" The men close to Mo look as though they might rebel. "Don't forget that just last week Fulvio nearly got the police called on us when he messed up on a job." Most of the men obey after that, but three remained—Basta being one of them and the most hardheaded. Basta glares at Mo with hatred and fear, superstitious till the end.

"Sure," Basta concurs," we can do without Fulvio, but what about the next time he reads? Who will be the next to disappear?" The men on either side of him nod in agreement, ready for the signal to pounce like a lion hunting its prey. My hands clench into fists, the fear making me sick to my stomach. I don't know what I'd do if Mo was killed, we'd never get out of this village alive without him. Elinor would be killed, Meggie would be a maid until she was old enough to be given to the men, and I would become Basta's shiny new toy until he grew bored and got rid of me. "Personally, I don't want to be sent into some desert story wearing a turban!"

"I won't tell you again." Capricorn's voice is calm, but it held an undertone of authority and malice. No one would be able to deny that voice anything, even if they had a backbone. "Let Silvertongue go back to reading and if any of you are scared you can go help the women with the laundry—that's all you'd be good for." The two men standing with Basta move to sit with the other men and after a moment Basta stands behind Meggie again. I breathe a sigh of relief, silently thanking Capricorn for keeping my father from being hurt and cursing him at the same time for putting Mo into this situation. "Lock the boy up, he may be of use to us yet." Flatnose leads him out of the church, the boy stumbling along as if in a daze. Once the church doors close, Capricorn sinks back down in his throne and motions for Mo to continue.

"No," Mo defies tiredly," I've read enough for today, be content with what you have. I want to go home and never see you or any of your men again." Capricorn appraises Mo silently and then turns his pale eyes to the bags of money before shrugging.

"Very well, we'll continue tomorrow."

"No, aren't you satisfied yet," I ask, looking at Capricorn pleadingly. "Do you want to be the next man to fall into a story?" The look Capricorn sends me makes me want the floor to swallow me up. "Please, don't make Mo do it. Just let us go." Basta smiles darkly at me as though planning just what tortures he would put me through tonight. I didn't want to imagine what awaited me, but every time I closed my eyes I saw him on that night, straddling my stomach with that stupid knife of his tearing at my shirt.

"Basta, why don't you escort Julianne to where she'll be staying tonight." Basta's grin widens and I know that I'll be lucky to survive.


	10. Gloomy Prospects

_I've become so numb, I can't feel you there__  
><em>Become so tired, so much more aware<em>  
><em>I'm becoming this, all I want to do<em>  
><em>Is be more like me and be less like you<em>  
><em>Can't you see that you're smothering me,<em>  
><em>Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?<em>  
><em>'Cause everything that you thought I would be<em>  
><em>Has fallen apart right in front of you.<em>  
><em>**Numb—Linkin' Park**

I wince as the leather belt once again hits my back, stifling a whimper. It only made Basta happier if I voiced my pain and I have no intention of giving him any pleasure willingly. "Don't be brave, Juli," he chuckles," it'll only be worse for you later." It would be worse either way, no matter how I respond to the punishment. I was stupid earlier, fueled by rage at how they treated the people around me. I should have just stayed where I was, where I was safe and out of the way. It's Dustfinger's fault, he was the one that told Capricorn where we were and now I'm in this mess. A sharp slap brings me back to the present, my back beginning to go numb. Basta throws the belt to the side, stepping up to the bed and beginning to unbutton his pants. "Time for the fun part." I stare at Dustfinger over his shoulder, my lips curving into a small smile. "What are you grinning about?" Dustfinger brings his weapon—a cereal bowl—down hard behind Basta's ear, sending him falling down on top of me.

"Are you alright," Dustfinger asks in a whisper, pushing Basta's unconscious form to the ground and gently helping me into a sitting position. I wince, the wounds on my back protesting at my movement. "My God, what has he done to you?" Carefully, he removes his coat and wraps it around my shoulders while he searches the room for spare clothing I can put on. My dress had been shredded when Basta grew impatient with the zipper. I look down at the bastard, noting that while he was attractive there is also a darkness that clings to him that warns you not to get close and comfortable. Dustfinger approaches me again seconds later, holding a black, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of pants in the same color. "They may be a bit big on you." I pull them on slowly, grimacing in pain. They basically swallowed me, I have to keep a hold of the pants or else they'd fall.

It took us longer than either of us wanted to reach the tumbledown building that was housing my family, my sore back protesting to every step. Dustfinger had tried to carry me, but we quickly dismissed that idea when he realized he'd have to touch my back. He kept sending me apologetic looks while we walked, knowing that it was his fault that this happened to me. About ten minutes later finds us outside the door of my family's cell, Dustfinger fiddling with the lock and cursing his burned fingers. "You wanna let me try," I whisper to him from my spot on the ground. He shakes his head, focusing on the lock and barely sparing me a second glance. A couple of curses later, Dustfinger has the lock off and the two of us sneak inside. On the floor are piles of rotting straw, the walls are cement with names scratched into the surface—one of those being Meggie's. In the middle of the room is Mo, Meggie, and Elinor. Anxious, Dustfinger closes the door behind us so that no one gets suspicious. "Mo!" I move as quickly as I can, welcoming Mo's warmth even though the sting got worse.

"I hear tell that you've done it again, Silvertongue," Dustfinger whispers. "I also heard that the poor boy hasn't said a word." I grimace, pulling back slightly and moving Mo's arms so that they don't touch my back. The numbness was definitely fading and feeling was rushing to fill its place. The pain caused my stomach to turn and the room to spin for a second.

"What are you doing here," Elinor snaps, walking over to inspect me. Her hands are gentle when they grasp my chin, turning my head side to side.

"Leave him alone," Mo tells her before turning to look at Dustfinger. "How are your hands?" Dustfinger shrugs, holding out his hands for Mo to see. They're still a bright red, like a bad sunburn that hurt at the slightest touch. I knew his hands hurt terribly, but he's too stubborn to do much other than soak them in cool water. I know he had done just that because when he helped me over here his hands were still damp. Glaring up at him, Elinor finally lets me go and faces Dustfinger with her hands on her hips.

"What do you want?" Dustfinger pulls keys out of his coat pocket and tosses them at her feet by way of answer.

"Why do you think," he grumbles, with an annoyed expression. "Stealing keys from Basta isn't easy and a word of thanks might be appreciated." I raise an eyebrow at him, one of my hands resting on my hip. "Don't give me that look, you don't know how awkward it is to reach into that man's pocket—unconscious or not." I shrug, regretting that and crying out. Mo supports me when my knees buckle, giving Dustfinger a worried look. "I didn't get there fast enough—he'd already started beating her. He didn't rape her though, that's something. Now, let's get out of here before Basta wakes up."

"Fine, but we're bringing someone else along with us," Mo says stubbornly, holding tightly to my arms as a way to keep me standing. Dustfinger rolls his eyes skyward, biting his lip to keep from saying something he might regret later. I couldn't blame him, if I was in his position I'd have some pretty nasty things to say, too. I look at my father nervously, legs shaking as they try to support me. Mo's expression brooks no arguments—I saw it a lot when I was younger. "It won't take long; the boy is right next door to us, Basta said so." The boy; is he talking about that kid he read out of the _Arabian Nights_? The guilt in his dark eyes answers my question well enough. He won't leave this godforsaken village if he can't bring the boy with us. "No lock has ever been an obstacle for your clever fingers."

"Clever fingers that are burned," Dustfinger clarifies, holding up his hands for all to see. "I barely got the lock on your door to cooperate, ask your daughter!" Dustfinger lets out a frustrated sound, throwing his hands in the air at Mo's and my matching looks. If Mo didn't leave, then I wouldn't, and Mo wasn't going anywhere as long as that kid is here. "That soft heart of yours will be the death of us," he hisses. Our group follows him outside the next door with a five painted on it where Dusty knocks on the flimsy wood. A faint rustling is heard from the other side, as though someone was trying to get as far as they can away from the door. "At least you weren't lied to—all prisoners that are to be killed are locked in the crypts under the church, Basta turns white as a sheet when he has to go down there ever since I convinced him that a White Woman haunts it." He chuckles until he sees my unamused expression, then his smile falls away and he scowls. "It'd be easier to make the Adderhead laugh than you lot." The lock falls into Dustfinger's hands and he turns to me with a smug look, bowing. "After you."

"Meggie will go in, he'll be less scared of her," Mo says, giving my sister a gentle push forward. The room is dark with no light like the other room. Meggie slowly walks inside, afraid but trying to be brave like one of the heroines in her stories. "Hurry up, Meggie!" It's a good thing Mo was standing in the doorway because the boy came shooting out and might have given us away had Mo not caught him. "Easy now," Mo whispers to him in a soothing voice," we're going to help you get away from here, but you have to listen to what we say." Can he even speak English?

"Devils," the boy mumbles in a shaky voice," all of you!" Meggie walks out of the room, rubbing her knee and glaring at the boy.

"The real devils captured us and brought us here. We can lock you right back in that room if you want to meet them," she says irritably. I tighten my grip on the pants I'm wearing, looking up at the church's tower—there's a man up there and he has a gun, I don't doubt that he wouldn't hesitate to shoot us.

"Hurry up," Dustfinger hisses again," if the boy won't come we might as well leave him to his fate, but the rest of you need to take your shoes off. You'll make too much noise otherwise." I look down at my feet, wondering how on Earth I was supposed to bend over and untie the borrowed boots. Basta has small feet and so his shoes fit well enough to need unlacing. Dustfinger notices my gaze and bends down, unlacing the boots and helping me out of them. He leads us through dark alleys and back ways that most people would steer away from, going so fast that I had trouble keeping up. The streets sloped dangerously and I would have fallen more than once if not for Dustfinger's tight grip on my arm. At the outskirt of the village is the parking lot, Dustfinger stops here, holding a finger up to his lips in a gesture of silence. The parking lot is illuminated by two street lamps, the light barely reaches a wire fence to our left where children might have played once but, according to Dustfinger, Capricorn used it for ceremonies. "Put your shoes back on." He helps me with mine again, making sure the laces were tied tight enough that the shoes wouldn't fall off my feet while we were running.

Looking around anxiously, we make for Elinor's station wagon; Dustfinger throws Elinor her keys and disappears. Has he decided to stay after all? I look around for him until I'm forced into the car by Meggie, nerves and my back getting the better of me. The pain is almost past my tolerance now and I would start crying soon if I couldn't find something to numb it. "Where's that matchstick-eater gotten to now," Elinor grumbles. We waited for an agonizingly long time for Dustfinger, the temptation to leave him there in all of our minds when the man in question climbs in beside me, closing a switchblade. "Wasn't it you who told us to hurry? And what exactly were you doing with that knife?"

"I was slitting their tires so we'd have more of a head start." I look at the knife with fear, recognizing it as the one that Basta was so proud of. Dustfinger, ever perceptive, notices and hides the knife in his coat pocket.

"That's Basta's," Meggie whispers with wide eyes.

"Not anymore." Elinor starts the engine and begins to drive, speeding up moments later after a shotgun blast was heard. I let out a scream of both pain and fear, Dustfinger pulling me down with a hand on the backs of mine and Meggie's heads. The boy curls up on the floorboard, probably safer than any of us.

"Damn it all, didn't you see that man when you were sneaking around?!"

"Obviously not, now keep driving! No, not _that_ way, woman, the other way!" I squeeze my eyes close, blocking out all the shouts and panic, not about to let my asthma make the situation worse. _Breathe, Juli; in and out, in and out—slowly now._ And then it was all over and the night was calm once more. Dustfinger's hand rubs soothing circles on my lower back where the damage was less. "Juli, will it be alright if I had a look at your back?" I nod, wincing as he pulled the back of the borrowed shirt up—dried blood making it stick in places. He sucks in a sharp breath at the sight, obviously it looked as bad as it felt. "Little bird, I am so sorry this happened to you." His voice is barely more than a whisper, his guilty, horrified expression mirroring Mo's.

"Oh my God," Mo breathes, tears welling up in his eyes. "Juli, I—" he cuts himself off, rubbing a hand over his face and shaking his head. "None of this should be happening." Wanting to change the subject, I look at the boy. He looks terrified, mumbling to himself about all of this being a dream.

"What's your name," I ask, sitting up as best as I can. The boy turns his gaze to me, his brown eyes wide and tear-filled. "It's alright, you can tell me. None of us will hurt you." I use the same soft, gentle tone I used with Meggie when she was a baby—it was one of the few things that shut her up. The affect it has on the boy is minute, but it got him to stop mumbling.

"Farid," he answers in a whisper. "I am not saying anything else, if you talk in a dream you never find your way back." _If you die in your dream, you die for real_. I shiver at the quote, wishing I had never thought of it. Damn Nightmare on Elm Street! One look out the back window has me wishing I had never done that either.

Two lights shone at a distance, like the eyes of some terrible beast; Basta is on his way to reclaim his prize.


	11. Snakes and Thorns

_And the wolves are at my door_  
><em>Three dollars and change at the pump<em>  
><em>The cost of livin's high and goin' up<em>  
><strong>Cost of Living-Ronnie Dunn<strong>

The headlights come closer and closer no matter how much Elinor sped up. "It could be any car," Meggie says hopefully, though we all knew it could only be Capricorn's men. We've been on the same abandoned road for an hour and there is only one place behind us. I pull my shirt down, a lump building in my throat and tears threatening to fall. This is all wrong; I should be sleeping in my bed at home, not on the run from some villains from a book!

"It's alright, little bird; I'll get you out of this, I swear to God!" I hold tightly to Meggie, feeling her shaking in my arms only made me hold her tighter. I would do all I could to keep her safe, to keep her from suffering Basta as I have. She's too young to be put through this!

"Now what," Elinor asks in a panicked tone. The car swerves all over the road and she didn't even notice she was so scared. "I'll not let them lock me back in that hole! No, no, no, no, no!" With each _no_, she slams her hand against the steering wheel. "I thought you said you slashed their tires!"

"I did," Dustfinger shouts with a glare, putting one of his warm hands on the back of my head in case he needed to shove me forward again. "Ever heard of spare tires, Elinor? I've heard it's a fairly well known thing to have!" He takes a deep breath to calm down, realizing he would get nowhere with Elinor while he was upset. "There should be a village just up ahead, if we can make it that far—"

"_If_, that's the real question; _if_ we can make it there! It had better be within six miles because that's all I have the gas for!" Unfortunately for us, we didn't even make it that far. As we followed the next curve in the road a horrendous bang is heard and Elinor barely managed to keep the car on the road after the blowout. Meggie screams, she and I holding each other as the station wagon swerved into the low, stone wall to our right and came to a halt beneath an old tree. "Oh, hell!"

"And that's why I never trusted cars," Dustfinger remarks, opening his door and getting out. He was an interesting shade of green, the closest to terrified that I've ever seen him. Mo opens the other door and helps Meggie and me out, careful not to touch my back.

"Are you both alright," he asks, looking at our faces anxiously. I nod, shaking even worse at the unmistakable sound of an engine in the distance. Judging by how fast they were going to catch up with us, the men should be here soon. I look back the way we came, the darkness swallowing even the approaching headlights. I might die tonight—Capricorn doesn't need me to keep Mo in his place, he just needs Meggie. She and Mo are really close, this whole thing probably making them closer, but Mo and I drifted apart slightly after I started college. My dorm room was the most stable home I've ever had and I loved it. Mo would text me when they moved so I knew where to go on the weekends and on break. I can already feel Basta's slim fingers around my neck, squeezing until no air could get past and I was suffocating. He's going to do worse to me when he has me than beat me with a belt.

"We have to get the car off the road," Dustfinger says suddenly, nodding his head and looking at the rest of us. Farid stands beside him, still wide-eyed and looking around. _Do you think it's still a dream, Farid?_

"What," Elinor shrieks.

"We can push it down the slope and out of view."

"Not my car!" Mo steps up beside Elinor with a defeated look. He knows Dustfinger has the right idea.

"He's right, we'll push the car down the slope and then hide behind trees on the other side," Mo instructs. "The men won't be able to see it in the dark, and if they do they'll think we flipped the car and died." If we actually had flipped the car and died we would be safer than hiding behind trees and hoping they don't find us. I look down the slope, feeling dizzy and sick—the lack of any real light made it impossible to see the bottom. Elinor joins me in looking down into the darkness, looking doubtful and unsure.

"But it's so steep...A-and what about the snakes you warned us about earlier?"

Dustfinger sends me an apologetic look before responding to Elinor," I'm sure Basta has a new knife by now—sharp and ready to be tried out." Elinor gives him a dark look, wrapping an arm around my shoulders at my shiver. I shake my head with a sigh. This is going to be a long night, I just know it. "Go and sit down, Juli."

"You're not the boss here, Dustfinger," I snap, bracing my hands on the car with Elinor and ready to push. Mo lays a hand on my shoulder, nodding towards the side of the road. "I guess you _are_ technically my boss." Meggie gives me a soft smile, moving to join the others. It seems God agreed with Elinor that night because, no matter how hard they tried, the old car refused to slide far enough down the slope to make Capricorn's men think we'd crashed and burned. With one last kick from Dustfinger, our group move to hide in what used to be an orchard. Dustfinger helps Farid, Mo helps Meggie, and Elinor and I help each other. Low walls crisscrossed in the worst possible places, tripping me up from time to time and nearly bringing Elinor down on top of me more than once. The engine is louder now, coming closer and closer to us.

"Keep your heads down, they're coming!" Elinor and I share an annoyed look before doing as we were bid, hiding behind one of the walls on our bellies. Thorns from the nearby bush dig into my side and arms, drawing blood. A white delivery van passes by us, the one we passed on the way to Elinor's car. I hold my breath as it continues onwards; even as Meggie tried to stand I know that we wouldn't get away that easy. Nothing was easy in real life, easy is something you see in books and movies where the heroes get away and have a happily ever after. In real life you'd be more likely to get a knife in your back than a kiss from your true love. Mo pulls Meggie down again, whispering that it might not be over yet. Of course it wasn't, none of us had that much luck. It's a quiet night, the silence broken only by the van's engine.

"Oh God," Elinor breathes," it's turning!" She tried to stand, but Mo holds her down too.

"Are you mad," he hisses at her," we don't have time to hide any better and they'll see us if we try!" The van _was_ turning and speeding back to where we are, stopping near where the car was pushed off the road. Two men get out of the van and I knew I was right; Basta is one of the men. He glares around suspiciously, one of his hands twitching—his knife hand, I realize. "There's the car," the other man says gruffly. Basta looks over at him and I could picture the look of fury and irritation on his face. It didn't take much; he had that same look on his face after I struck him. It's a look I hope never to see again.

"Check and see if they're inside," he grumbles. His voice is raspy and might have sent shivers down my spine if I didn't know what he was capable of. The other man—maybe Flatnose—curses as he makes his way down the slope to the car. Yes, it would have to be Flatnose because no other man in the village is that large. Basta lights a cigarette, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke out of his nose. That must be the smell that clung to him under the layers of mint: cigarette smoke.

"They're not here!" He climbs back up the slope carefully, trying not to trip and fall. "Must'a gotten away on foot. We don't have to follow 'em, do we?"

Basta moves to look down the slope and then in the direction we were hiding with narrowed eyes, blowing more smoke into the clean night air. My lungs join my list on pains, burning from the lack of air. "They can't have gotten far, but there's no way we can track them this late at night." He whispers something to Flatnose, who shakes his head.

"Nah, the dogs will help us better—even if they're not around here we'll know which way they went." Basta stamps out his cigarette and goes over to the van, pulling out two shotguns. Flatnose lets out a groan, shaking his head and taking one from him.

"We'll try downhill first, that fat old woman would be able to handle that way better." He lets out a dark chuckle. "I doubt Juli will be able to move very quickly." Flatnose snorts as they start downhill.

"Obviously she can move well enough—she knocked you on your ass." And then their conversation faded away the farther they walked. I finally let out the breath I'd been holding, taking deep gulps of air to slow my pulse. Dustfinger stands up, pointing up the hill. We follow after him, hiding as best as we can in the undergrowth and behind trees, the fear never leaving us. Even when the road was hidden from us, the fear that we would be found stayed—ingrained in our bones.

"They'll realize they went the wrong way soon," Dustfinger whispers," they'll go back to get the dogs. Basta doesn't like bringing bad news to Capricorn; no one in their right mind does."

"Then we need to hurry," Mo says breathlessly.

"Where," Elinor asks, lagging behind us. "Are we close to that village yet, Matchstick-eater?"

"South," Dustfinger answers," just keep moving south." And so South we go, following in a close group with Gwin running along beside us on a chain. He enjoyed running between Elinor's feet, tripping her up and making her curse it. I agreed with Elinor, the marten was more of an annoyance than anything and if it tried to trip me I would have no qualms about stepping on the damn thing! Elinor seems to share my opinion, kicking at it and missing it by mere inches. I can't blame her, Gwin's a pain in the ass.

"Little beast," Elinor complains. "Oh, my poor feet; the second we reach civilization I'm going to get the best hotel room money can buy!" I snort, thinking she was just hoping because Basta made sure to take any valuables Mo and I had the second Capricorn demanded it. I doubt she has any money left.

"With what," I ask sarcastically," your good looks?" At her sour look I hold up my hands, palms out in a gesture of peace. "No offense to your good looks, Aunt Ellie, it's just that most people value money a whole lot more than anything else."

"Basta took my wallet," she admits with a smug look," but I put my credit card somewhere safe." Dustfinger looks impressed, and from the look he sends her, probably wondering where she hid it. I bet it's in her bra; that's where people that have bigger boobs put all their crap. _I can't do that_, I think, looking down at my B-cup breasts, _maybe one day_.

"Is anywhere safe from Basta," Dusty asks, pulling on Gwin's chain to get the marten away from a tree.

"What man do you know of that's excited about searching fat old ladies? That's how I got most of my expensive books." Her eyes widen when she realized what she had just admitted, looking down at Meggie who obviously had heard everything but pretended not to. I smile, loving how sweet Meggie is.

"You're not fat," Meggie protests," and old is a bit of an exaggeration."

"Why, thank you, sweetheart! I think I'll have to buy you from your father so you can keep saying those nice things to me. How much do you want, Mo?" Mo takes on a pondering look, as though he was actually considering it.

"I'll have to think on it," he replies," how about I loan her to you for a few days?" The talk continues, the voices hushed but helping to keep the fear at bay while we walked. Elinor and Mo spoke of books for the most part; Meggie smiled and gave input on their conversation from time to time with me providing a couple of words she had trouble pronouncing. The only quiet ones in our group are Dustfinger and Farid. After a while I grew bored with the book talk and move to walk next to Dustfinger.

"How are you doing," he asks, slipping his hand in mine. I look down at our joined hands, but don't question it. It's nice and his hands are always warm, like the fire he plays with lies just under the surface of his skin. I shrug, the pain going in and out of numbness. I welcomed those moments of bliss, right now being one of them.

"I'm well enough to knock Basta on his ass," I joke with a smile, remembering Flatnose's jab from earlier. He chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'm sure Basta made him wish he hadn't spoke after that." I laugh with him, squeezing his hand and swinging it back and forth. "Is what I heard earlier true? That you cannot read like other people?" I frown, knowing he'd overheard Elinor pestering Mo the other day. "You don't have to be embarrassed, little bird; I'm a slow reader and barely that." When did Dustfinger learn to read and who the hell had the patience to teach him? Not Mo, we never stayed long enough around him for that.

"I have Dyslexia," I answer distractedly," it means that I mix my letters up. It takes me a while to get through a book, but I don't let up until I finish; I'm stubborn like that I guess." He nods, helping Farid to avoid a root that would've tripped him up. He and I walk in silence for a while, eventually finding a footpath that had empty bullet cartridges scattered around. Obviously a hunter had some fun here; either doing some target practice or hunting in general. After I stumble and fall for the fifth time, Dustfinger picks me up bridal style, ignoring how my back might protest; I ignored it, too. With my face in the crook of his neck, I breathe in his spicy scent and fall into a light slumber.


	12. Basta

_Carry on my wayward son,  
>There'll be peace when you are done<br>Lay your weary head to rest  
>Don't you cry no more<em>  
><strong>Carry on my Wayward Son—Kansas<strong>

I didn't wake up until Dustfinger laid me down, a sharp pain shooting through me as my back made contact with whatever it was. I move quickly, rolling onto my side and retching. It felt like it would never stop, the endless cycle of vomiting and pain making me lightheaded. Only this time nothing came out, I was left dry heaving in the dirt with Dustfinger staring at me in obvious worry. I wave him off, turning onto my other side and curling into a ball. "You look cold," Dustfinger comments, taking in my shaking form.

"I'm not shaking from the cold."

"All the same." He shrugs off his coat and lays it over me as a makeshift blanket and I snuggle deeper into it, breathing in his scent of the earth and smoke. It takes me longer to fall asleep this time, but Elinor's light snoring is a familiar sound that lulls me into a feeling of safety. All I have to do is close my eyes and pretend I was a little girl again, staying in Elinor's house while Resa was pregnant with Meggs. Above me is the blue ceiling, not a roof that looked as though it would collapse at any second; beneath me is my soft bed, not hard dirt. And soon I'm floating on a cloud, drifting deeper into dreamland where there were no worries.

_I smile up at Dustfinger, my arms wrapped loosely around his neck as we sway back and forth in a sort of dance. The corners of his mouth are turned up slightly in a smile, his blue eyes holding a light that I've never seen before in their depths—he looks happy, genuinely happy. "Are you enjoying yourself," he asks with a chuckle, spinning us around._

_"Very much," I answer, looking around us at the meadow we're in. Flowers of white, pink, and purple sprout up, intertwined beautifully with the green grass. It stops around our ankles and went on forever, a quiet, peaceful place that I never wanted to leave._

All too soon I was taken out of the dream, Mo standing over me with a hand over my mouth to keep me from screaming at the sudden waking. In the distance I could hear a dog barking and my shaking resumes tenfold, fear and pain making an immediate comeback. Carefully, Mo helps me to stand and brings a finger up to his lips in a signal for quiet. I nod, moving to stand by Meggie, wrapping my arms around her. Elinor, now awake, leans against one of the walls, biting her lips anxiously. Mo and Dustfinger move to either side of the doorway, their backs pressed against the walls as they waited. Farid hurried to stand beside Meggie and me, his dark eyes wide as the sounds grow louder and louder—the sound of men talking making me wince. One of those men is Basta, I just know it. I squeeze my eyes closed, breathing becoming shallow as the fear inside me wells up.

"They should have reached the valley at this point!" Flatnose's voice is rough, making me shudder and hold Meggie closer to me.

"With two children, a fat old woman, and an injured Julianne," Basta scoffs.

"Damn it, Basta, they're obviously not here! Let's head back to the village, I'm hungry and I certainly don't feel like gettin' bit by a snake. We'll tell Capricorn that they died when they crashed their car—push it hard enough and it should finish its tumble down that slope; none would be the wiser." I can barely make out Basta's reply, something about dogs and cheese. With my heart beating loudly in my chest it is a miracle I can hear anything. I'm surprised the two men looking for us can't hear it, too. When I build up the courage to open my eyes again I see Mo charging out from behind a tree at Basta, struggling to get a gun from the younger man.

"Get him, you brutes," Basta shouts and the hounds he has with him hurriedly comply, lunging at Mo. Elinor latches onto Meggie to keep her in the hovel, but she couldn't get a good grasp on me as I ran out the door and jumped on Basta's back while Dustfinger dragged the dogs away from Mo. Basta is still struggling with Mo, but he wasn't able to struggle as fiercely with me hitting him repeatedly. "Little bitch," he growls, using one hand to grab my arm and fling me to the ground. With adrenaline in my system, I barely registered the pain as I got back to my feet and went at him again.

"Let them go," Flatnose demands of Dustfinger, holding up his rifle and aiming it at Mo. Dustfinger mutters under his breath, releasing the dogs seconds before a stone hit Flatnose directly between his eyes, knocking the large man unconscious. I spin back towards the hovel, spotting Farid with another rock already in hand.

"Keep them off me," Mo shouts, cursing when one of the dogs sinks its teeth into his arm. Meggie darts forward, grabbing the mutt by its studded collar and yanking it back, but the dog wouldn't budge and blood was beginning to spread on Mo's shirt. I join Meggie, trying to pry the dog's mouth open without getting bit myself. Basta continues his struggle against Mo, the barrel of his shotgun narrowly missing Meggie's head as he swings it around. I grit my teeth, shooting a desperate look in Dustfinger's direction.

"Get off him," he calls out towards the dogs," come here! Get away from him!" The dogs listen at first, the one I was struggling with releasing Mo as it looks at Dusty with its tail wagging back and forth.

"Get him," Basta growls at them, but the dogs just stay where they are, growling and unsure which master to obey. Basta gets away from Mo, growling back at the dogs as he brings his shotgun level with Mo's chest just as Elinor pressed Flatnose's against the back of his head. She looked like hell, shaking and her face blotchy, but she also looked like someone who could handle a gun and wouldn't be afraid to blow Basta away if he made a move she didn't approve of.

"Drop the gun, Basta," she commands in a shaky voice. "And you leave those dogs alone! I've read plenty of westerns and I know that all I need to do is pull the trigger." Technically, you should squeeze the trigger, but I'll save that tidbit for some other time. I stand up, adjusting the too large pants as well as I can and brushing the dirt off from where I was kneeling before. Basta sets the gun on the ground, straightening up and facing my aunt with a disdainful stare.

"Sit," Dustfinger commands, the dogs glancing over at Basta to see if he had a different command and sitting when he stays silent. Dustfinger ties them to the tree, the knot loose enough that it could be untied easily. After that was done, Dustfinger takes a red scarf out of his pack and uses it to bind Mo's wound, the red turning brown as it soaks up the blood. "It's not as bad as it looks," he promises as my sister draws closer, her complexion ashen and looking as though she might faint at any time.

As the adrenaline leaves my system, the pain rushes to fill its place, my back stinging. _At least it's not as bad as it was earlier_, I think as I walk back into the little house to retrieve Dustfinger's jacket. As I was shaking the long coat out, the others carry Basta and Flatnose inside—both of the two villains tied up to keep them here for a while, while we snuck away. Basta grumbles something into his gag, no doubt some sort of curse as his colleague comes to. Dustfinger takes his coat from me, pulling it back on and giving Basta a sardonic smile. "Dusty," I ask softly, one hand moving to my stomach as nausea kicks in.

"There's something I've always wanted to do," he says, drawing Basta's knife from his belt and moving over to our prisoners. This time that my stomach flips it's not from hunger, it's from fear of what the Fire-dancer might do. I step in front of him, holding my hands up with my palms facing him. He must be able to read what I thought he was about to do by the horror on my face because he laughs a little and shakes his head. "Don't worry, I just want to scare him a little." I give him a once-over, not seeing any malice in his face, before stepping to the side and letting him continue.

"Make it quick."

"Yes, my little bird." He bends down, using the stolen knife to cut through the leather strap that hung from Bata's neck, taking the small pouch it held up and swinging it in front of Basta's face mockingly. "I'm taking your luck, Basta!" He straightens with a taunting smile. "Now you have no protection from all those things that frighten you." Basta tries to kick him, but Dusty avoids his bound legs with ease. "This will be goodbye forever, but should our paths cross again, I'll have luck on my side." He ties the string around his own neck for emphasis. "You have a lock of your hair in this right? Perhaps I'll burn it—that's supposed to have a terrible effect on the owner, correct?"

"That's enough," Mo interrupts," we need to get out of here before Capricorn sends men looking for these two." He urges Dustfinger out into the sunlight, but I hang back, sending a scathing look in Basta's direction.

"You're disgusting," I hiss at him, feeling rage pump through my veins and cloud my vision in a haze of red. "And nasty little fellows such as yourself will always get their comeuppance." Shaking from both pain and anger, I leave the knife thrower behind me and walk out into the open, closing my eyes and angling my face up so that I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face.

We keep to the path we were walking last night, trying to keep an eye out in case we came across anymore of Capricorn's men or even the snakes that were slithering through the high grass on either side of the trail. I keep my eyes on the ground, my shoulders hunched as I try to ignore my throbbing back and the heat. Our group moved slower than we did last night, having to stop every now and again for Dustfinger to fling a snake off the trail.

Eventually we make it to a real town, filled with brightly colored houses and real people that don't look like they would murder us while we slept. "I hope we can get into a bank," Elinor says breathlessly," We look as though we were amongst thieves."

"And so we were," Mo reminds her.

**Sorry if this chapter isn't the best, I did proofread it, but I'm only human and I'm tired, so I might have missed a few things.**


	13. In Safety

_Could these walls come crumbling down?_  
><em>I want to feel my feet on the ground<em>  
><em>And leave behind this prison we share<em>  
><em>Step into the open air<em>  
><strong>Into the Open air- Julie Fowlis<strong>

I was glad to find a seat in the first café we came across, resting my head on my folded arms and closing my eyes. The walk had been a long one and I felt dead on my feet at this point—I probably looked dead too if the looks a few of the people sent me were anything to go off of. "How does your back feel," Dustfinger asks, taking the seat beside me at the table.

"No worse than it was yesterday," I mumble without raising my head, my voice muffled but still understandable. "A little better, I guess." I shrug as well as I can, watching my feet as I swing them back and forth under the table. The boots were coming untied and I dreaded the moment I would have to bend over completely to unlace them.

"Do you all know what you'd like to order or do you need a few minutes," a chipper waitress asks, appearing at our table moments after Elinor returned from the restroom. The thought of food makes my stomach twist unpleasantly, the constant throbbing pain of my back making it impossible for me to eat the food my stomach was demanding. I shake my head, excusing myself to go to the bathroom.

It's small, but the door locks and it's clean enough that I don't have to worry about bad smells or the usual gunk that comes with public bathrooms. With shaking hands, I get water started in the sink and wash my face, drying it quickly with a couple of paper towels before staring at my reflection. My healthy pale complexion is now ashen, my eyes no longer holding a lively spark like they used to, and my dark hair fell down my back in tangles—the darkness of it making me seem even paler. I run my ringers through the thick mane a few times, getting out the worst of the knots before getting the courage to rejoin the others.

They were paying by that time with Dustfinger and Farid nowhere to be seen. Mo turns to face me with a sad smile when I walk over to them, my arms wrapped around myself in a sort of hug. "I'm going outside," I tell Mo softly, not waiting for a reply as I walk out of the diner into the warm sunlight. It feels like I can't keep warm, the fear that's been eating away at me keeping me cold and shaking.

"Julianne?" I look up as Dustfinger walks over to me, the Arabic boy hot on his heels. "Why are you out here by yourself?"

"The café is too crowded for my liking." I shrug, moving to sit on the ledge of a smallish fountain set in the middle of the square. Dustfinger joins me with Farid sitting on the ground at our feet. He's still looking at everything with wide eyes, like he expected it all to just disappear and send him freefalling again. "We're not actually safe, are we?"

"We'll never be safe as long as Capricorn's out there."

"I thought as much." I look down at the ground, enjoying the sun's warmth and the faint breeze that carries the salty smell of the sea. It was a soothing combination, and slowly my shaking stopped. "You're leaving again." That much was obvious, Dustfinger hates staying in one place for more than a few days.

"Not for long, I hope." We fall into a silence—not uncomfortable, but not comfortable either. It rested somewhere in between, the type of silence that is always present when you're starting to get to know someone. "I have something for you…." I look up, finding Dustfinger dangling a necklace between us. It's a sterling silver hummingbird, its body filled in with small pale blue and green gems, and it's held on a silver chain by its wing.

"Why'd you buy me something so nice?" My question seems to catch him a little off guard. "I mean, we didn't even like each other until recently…."

"I saw it in one of the stores and it made me think of you. I also made the mistake of mentioning that to Farid here, and he wouldn't let me leave the store until I bought it." Farid smiles up at me, some of his long dark hair falling in his eyes and only serving to make him look like an innocent child.

"Hmm, well, then thank you, Farid."

"You are welcome," he replies with a proud set to his jaw. The rest of our group files out of the café, Mo holding a to-go container in his hands. I move to ask if the boys are going with us, but when I turn again Dustfinger and Farid have disappeared and the necklace is laying on the stone beside my hand. Smiling a little, I pick up the necklace and follow the others towards a hotel near the sea. The hotel is big for a town like this and Elinor whips out her credit card and pays for two top floor rooms that have a view of the water.

Only the best for Aunt Ellie, I suppose. Elinor and I share a room, the older woman making me eat the food Mo had ordered for me before I could go for a quick shower. The grilled cheese was welcome, enough to make me full without also making me feel sicker. After my shower, I clasp the necklace in place, the bird settling in the hollow of my throat. The rest of the night is spend trying to relax, though I noticed that Elinor spent any time alone she had with Mo talking at him. It's obvious that he's still thinking about that damned book and it's obvious that Elinor is completely against him going back for it.

The next morning, after a doctor treats Mo's and my wounds, Elinor forces Meggie and me to go clothes shopping with her. It wasn't bad and most of my clothes were bought in one store. I change after buying the clothes, using a changing room and leaving the stolen clothes behind. I pull on a pair of jeans, some Minion converse, a dark grey tee shirt with 'Expecto Petronum' written on it in white letters, a jacket, a scarf to keep me warm, and a headband to keep my loose hair out of my eyes.

Elinor didn't completely approve of my clothing choices, but she kept her opinions to herself.

A few days later found me back in my hotel room, wrapped up in a fluffy white comforter and flipping through channels. Elinor enters the room with a small container of food, setting it down beside me on the bed before throwing the things she had bought in a suitcase. "I'm leaving today, Julianne," she tells me sternly," and I want you to keep a close eye on your father. Don't let him do anything reckless—I don't care if you have to tie him to a chair. And I don't want you thinking of that matchstick eater either, young lady."

"I love you too, Aunt Ellie," I smile. Elinor snaps the suitcase shut, staring at me for a few seconds before she seemed to make up her mind about something and gave me a tight hug.

"Now, you eat your food. I expect you'll be leaving soon with your father and sister. I gave him the information to find the author of _Inkheart_." And then I was alone in the large room with nothing but a hot stack of chocolate chip waffles and Game of Thrones playing on the TV.

**There are links in my profile now in case you want to see what I based Juli's clothes on. Have you ever wrote a fic and the only time you could write it was when you have a certain song playing on repeat? My parents now have No Light by Florence + the Machine memorized at this point….**


	14. A Night Full of Words

_And if we should die tonight  
>Then we should all die together<br>Raise a glass of wine for the last time  
><em>**I See Fire—Ed Sheeran**

For most of the time we have spent here, I have stayed indoors wrapped in blankets and only leaving my bed when necessary. The TV and I became great friends, and I would have become friends with the free Wi-Fi, but I have no phone or computer to access it with. Late into the afternoon on the day Elinor left us, Mo decided he'd had enough of me hiding out and forced me to go with him and Meggs to supper.

Dressed in a simple dark red skirt, an off the shoulder white sweater, and sequined flats, I walk out of my room and meet my family in the lobby. Before we were able to leave, Mo releases my hair from the loose ponytail I had it in so that it fell down my back almost to my waist. "To keep your shoulders and neck warm," he explains with a smile. He seems to be in a good mood now that he knows where the author lives. I expect we'll make that trip soon, but at least this time we'll be able to drive.

The dinner is nice and the restaurant is small enough that it didn't seem too crowded as people favored the larger places. "There is one good thing that came out of this vacation," I say as we walk out. "I didn't have to stress over my term paper." Meggie giggles at that and Mo cracks a smile. "Crap, now I'm stressing about it."

"Don't, you always do your best work when you're under pressure. _That_ you got from me." I follow the happy pair through the crowded streets, looking around and enjoying the fell of the cool air on my overheated skin. The crowd grew thicker the further we went, Meggie leading the way to a large group of people and pushing politely towards the front. In the center of the mass is Dustfinger, playing with his lit torches and carefully letting the flames lick his bared arms.

The fire doesn't obey him here quite like it does in his story, but just occasionally it will be tame enough to let him do these types of dangerous tricks. On nights when magic is crackling in the air and the large orange moon is full over our heads. I've always called it a Halloween moon, though it won't be Halloween for a few weeks yet. Dustfinger bows to the crowd as his little assistant walks around with a small silver bowl, blending in nicely with the people surrounding him thanks to his tanned complexion and dark hair.

He could almost be Italian, but he's a might too dark in his coloring to be a full blood like the boys I spot out my hotel window. He was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt now, the robe he came here in nowhere in sight. He certainly didn't look like he just got read out of a book, so that's a good thing. He walked tenderly, and I could see why the moment I looked down—he wore shoes, the laces loose enough to slip on without untying, but they were also tight enough to keep the shoes on his feet while he moved.

My eyes leave Farid, moving back to the Fire-dancer and what he was doing with the fire. He meets my gaze for a moment as he brings a bottle up to his lips, but then his startling blue eyes move back to his torch as he spits the liquid at the fire, a large ball of it shooting into the air and making a few of the spectators take a step back. I stayed right where I was in the front, knowing Dustfinger would not purposefully hurt an innocent person while performing.

He lets the torch drop to the ground to extinguish on the cobblestones as he begins to juggle, the little balls soaring high up in the air. He controls them easily, his face a mask of concentration as he does little trick with them, sending them rolling up and down his arms, bouncing off his knee, and back into the air again. It was a wonderful distraction, something to keep my mind off of term papers and evil villains that could be lurking in the shadows.

As I watched those little balls dancing, I was a child again with no cares in the world and two parents who loved me. They're colors seemed to mix together as they spun, blues, yellows, and reds becoming one constant shade that drew my eye. And just as quickly and gracefully as the show had started, it was over—the crowd dwindling until only my family and I were left to watch the clean-up. I blink a few times, ridding myself of the visions of spinning balls and fire before joining the others, smiling when I notice Farid happily counting out the money he had collected. He didn't have to steal or beg for it like he would have in his other story.

"How much did we make this time," Dustfinger was asking when I reached the spot he, Meggie, and Mo were standing. Farid jumps at Dustfinger's words, bashfully putting out the matchstick he was about to stick in his mouth. I smile a little, already seeing the adoration in the boy's eyes when he stares at Dusty. I also see the way Dustfinger has to twist his mouth in order to keep a smile away. He's proud to have a child that adores him and aspires to be like him. "He's set on learning how to play with fire and I've taught him how to make small practice torches, but he's too eager. He's got blisters all over his lips."

It's then that I remember that Dustfinger is the father of two daughters that adored him when they were small. He had to leave them often to make money and I can't help but wonder if they thought he had died or just decided not to return to them when in reality he was stuck in this world. I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear the sound of glass clinking against stone, watching Farid blush as he puts one of Dustfinger's bottles in the bag. "Be careful with that," Dustfinger snaps at him. I punch his shoulder, glaring at him when he looks down at me like a puppy that just had its tail stepped on. "What was that for?"

"Don't snap at him," I reprimand," he's only human and we make mistakes." Meggie smiles a little, giving me a high five and Dustfinger a smug look that seemed to say _you just got chewed out by a woman half your age_. "Now, why are still here? Normally you'd be gone by now to avoid you-know-who's wrath." Oh great, now every time I read _Harry Potter_ I'm going to think of Capricorn as Voldemort, though it would be funny to see what he'd look like being beaten by a twelve year old….

"What, do you think I'd go back for that book?" That's exactly what I think. He scoffs a little, shaking his head. "I'm a coward, remember? Don't overestimate what I'm capable of."

"I've seen what you're capable of, you oaf. If anyone can sneak into that village undetected and steal the book right out from under Voldemort incarnate's nose, it'll be you." I pause a moment, reconsidering my words. "Don't actually do that, though, because I'll find out about it and then I'll have to kick you for being so reckless."

"I swear not to steal _Inkheart _from….He-who-must-not-be-named. Are you happy now?"

"Honestly, I'm just glad you know about _Harry Potter_." He smirks, just a small tilt to one corner of his mouth, but it's better than his usual not-smile. Mo raises an eyebrow at the exchange, looking between the two of us, but not commenting on it.

"I thought you should know that I'm going to visit someone tomorrow," Mo says, looking around us at the buildings surrounding the square.

"Who do you know here," Dusty asks, buttoning the Hawaiian shirt he had on. It was bright with flowers all over it—the complete opposite of the man's personality.

"A man who might still have a copy." There was no change in Dustfinger's expression, but suddenly he had some difficulty working the buttons on his shirt. His voice is hoarse when he speaks up next.

"That's not possible, Capricorn would have known."

"The man I'm speaking of doesn't sell books at all, he may have overlooked it." He takes a moment to compose himself and think of something to say, his keen eyes moving around us and taking everything in. Briefly, his eyes land on the Hummingbird necklace that he was wearing, hanging around my neck with torchlight flickering in the small gems. I cover it with my hand, afraid that if he stared at it too long, he would change his mind and take it back.

"So, who is this mysterious stranger?" To keep his voice from sounding hoarse this time, he speaks in a whisper.

"The man who wrote the book. He doesn't live too far from here." Farid walks up to us, holding the little bowl that holds their money.

"Gwin hasn't come back yet," he tells Dustfinger. "Should I guy buy something to tempt him?" He already knows how to get Gwin to do things? I look the boy over again, pleased with what I see. An intelligence burns in those beautiful eyes of his.

"No, he can look after himself," Dustfinger says distractedly, one of his hands rising to rub the scars on his face. "Put our money in the leather bag—you know the one I mean." The impatient tone is back, but now I realize that it's because he's trying not to get too close to the boy. He doesn't want to get attached. Farid runs off like a man with a mission, not looking put out at Dustfinger's harsh tone. "I didn't think I had a chance to get back…." He trails off, looking up as a plane flew overhead. He pushes his long hair off his face. "If there really is another copy, if there really is a chance, will you try to read me back just one more time?"

The longing in his voice makes me feel wretched, like it was my fault that he would never get to see his wife and daughters again. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I _can't_. I've tried several times to get my wife back, but it never works." Dustfinger's eyes are like ice, hard and unforgiving, just like his voice.

"I'm coming. I'm going with you when you visit the man and then we'll see." Laughter broke the tense silent and all of us look past Dustfinger to where Farid was standing with Gwin climbing up onto his head. I've never seen the marten so playful around someone that wasn't Dusty. "Well, at least he isn't homesick. I asked him, he says he prefers this world to his own. You did him a favor." The cold look he sends in Mo's direction makes me quickly look down at my flats, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. "So, where does he live?"

"An hour's drive from here." Dustfinger is quiet for a little while, his eyes going back up to another plane that was soaring overhead.

"Sometimes when I went to wash early in the mornings," he says softly," there would be small fairies skimming above the water, barely larger than your butterflies in this land. Blue as violet petals. They would fly into my hair, sometimes they'd spit in my face—they weren't at all friendly creatures, but they shone like fireflies. If you catch one and let it out before you went to sleep you had beautiful dreams."

"Capricorn said that there were giants and trolls," Meggie says from her spot beside Mo.

"There were, but Capricorn hated them all. He hunted everything that could run, people included." _He's hunting us now_. Abruptly, he shoulders his backpack and then waved to Farid. The boy picks everything else up hurriedly, eager to please Dustfinger. "Don't tell that man about me! I'll wait in the car until you're finished, I just want to know if he still has a copy."

"Fine by me." Mo shrugs, not caring one way or another.

Dustfinger looks down at his fingers, feeling the taunt red skin before muttering," He might tell me how my story ends."

"You don't know," Meggie asks in surprise. Dustfinger gives his strange not-smile at her and I can tell that it makes my sister uncomfortable.

"Does that seem strange to you, Princess? Do _you _know how _your _story ends?" Meggie doesn't answer, all of us watching as Dustfinger winks and begins to walk away with Farid following after him. "I'll be at the hotel tomorrow morning."

* * *

><p>Later that night, after the moon had disappeared and the stars had come out to play, I sat in a chair beside the window with The Hobbit opened on my lap. Elinor had tucked it under my pillow when I was distracted and I just found it a little while ago after I woke up from a nightmare in a cold sweat. Usually, this is the book I can lose myself in, but tonight, no matter how much I love Bilbo's interaction with Smaug, I just couldn't do it.<p>

Dressed in a simple white nightgown that fell just slightly past mid-thigh, I was cold in the room without my blanket wrapped around me, but I don't want to sleep. With a huff, I set the book down on the floor and look out the window towards the beach where I can make out a fire. Dustfinger. I watch him juggle torches before getting the nerve to throw on a robe and my converse before running outside to join him out on the cool sand.

He doesn't notice me at first, too absorbed in what he was doing until his arms grew tired and he shoved the torches into the sand, extinguishing the flames. "You get better every time you do that," I tell him quietly, not wanting to wake Farid who was lying a few feet away. Gwin is curled up next to him, his tail twitching in time with the wind. "It's almost like magic."

"Almost," Dustfinger nods," but not quite. What are you doing out here?"

"I….Had a nightmare, saw you, and figured I'd rather talk to someone than stay in that room by myself." I shrug, watching as he washes the soot off his hands in the calm waters of the sea. He sits down on his bedroll, tugging my wrist until I sat down beside him, my legs tucked underneath me. "You're so warm." I turn my hand, resting our palms against each other. "It's like you carry fire inside you."

"I wish I did, a little piece of home." We fall into a silence, a comfortable one this time, one formed by shared trauma. "Sing for me."

"What?"

"Please, it's too quiet here at night." I smile, gesturing for him to lie down first.

"_Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper 'I love you', birds singing in the sycamore tree—dream a little dream of me_." I close my eyes, the sound of the seas soothing my nerves. "Say nighty-night' and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me. While I'm alone and blue as can be dream a little dream of me. Stars fading, but I linger on, dear. Still craving your kiss, I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear."

Suddenly Dustfinger is pulling me down beside him, his lips finding mine and moving heatedly against them. I don't question it, just enjoying how gentle he is as he wraps his arms securely around me and pulls me against him. I stay with him until morning, doing nothing more than kissing and sleeping, the fire turning to embers and then ashes.

When dawn breaks, I kiss him goodbye once more before returning to my hotel room to shower, change and pack. It was hard to tame my hair after a night sleeping out in the wind, but I manage eventually before joining the others in the lobby. My cheeks are flushed a light red, but it's not from the hot shower I just left, it's from the Fire-eater a few feet away, giving me an impish look.


	15. Fenoglio

_"You think you know a story, but you only know how it ends. To get to the heart of the story, you have to go back to the beginning."  
><em>**King Henry VIII—The Tudors**

Grey clouds and the overcast sky seem to wash out the color in everything, the threat of rain hanging over our heads as we drive away from our safe haven. I stare out my window at the sea, constantly on my left as we drive down the coastal road—every now and again, I would cut my gaze to the right and catch Dustfinger watching me, his blue eyes smiling even while his mouth stays in a straight line. I can't help the smile that tugs at the corners of my mouth.

It only takes us an hour to reach a new road that wound through the hills spotted with grey houses and greenhouses—Mo is driving faster than he usually does, either anxious to get further from Capricorn's village or to reach the author. The surroundings are dull for a long while until they finally give way to greener colors of the meadows and olive trees—the road forks unexpectedly a few times during the drive, Mo constantly checking and double checking the map he had.

Sooner than I had thought we reach the village we're looking for, so small that it could barely be called that with a few dozen houses and a church that could be a direct copy of the one that Capricorn spends his time in. When I get out of the car, I can still hear the sea faintly as it crashes into the shore far below us, the sound reminding me of last night and the sweet embrace Dusty and I shared. Beside the car is a memorial for the people killed in the first two world wars, the list of names too long for my liking.

"No need to lock the car," Dustfinger says," I'll keep an eye on it." He puts Gwin on a leash as he shoulders his pack and sits down on the steps that lead up to the memorial, Farid sitting down beside him without speaking. The pair seemed so different in looks—Farid all dark colors and Dusty somewhere between light in dark with his splash of ginger hair, but they were more alike in personality.

"I'm going to stay here," I say softly, my book in hand.

"Are you sure," Mo asks, looking me over.

"Yeah, I've had enough adventures to last me a lifetime." I sit on the step below the one Dustfinger occupies, my elbows on my knees and my chin supported on my hands. Mo gives a nod, beginning to walks away with Meggie in tow before Dustfinger calls after him.

"Don't forget you promised not the mention me!"

"Yes, alright," Mo calls back. I hear a match come to life and smell the stench of sulfur, knowing without turning that Farid was practicing with his matches again. He is determined to get it perfect and he's doing a fantastic job so far—catching up with Dusty at a fast pace. Soon he would be ready to move on to the torches. I hear the rattle of a matchbook being put away seconds later before Farid jumped up and began running up and down the steps as something to do.

I watch him with a smile, his cheerful grin and energy making me feel alive for the first time since I was taken. A large number of cats prowled through the village, a few of them giving me curious looks before scampering off. Once cat wasn't quite quick enough ad Farid scooped it up in his arms and sat on the steps petting it despite the fact that its claws were digging into his leg. He's an animal person, which speaks well about his sweet personality.

"How is your back doing," Dustfinger asks softly, and a pleasant shiver races down my spine when I feel one of his fingers on me through the material of my sweater and top.

"It's mainly healed by now since none of the cuts were deep, it just itches for the most part." He takes his hand away and I can no longer feel his gaze on me.

"Do you know how they control the cats around here," he asks, though not to me. "When winter comes they lock their pets safely inside their houses and leave dishes of poisoned milk out for the strays." The gray cat Farid had been holding runs past me a second after those words left Dusty's mouth, followed by a heavy silence. Why the hell would you say something like that to a kid? I shake my head in disapproval, but I refuse to turn around, instead I focus my gaze down on my shoes.

The silence isn't lifted until Meggie and Mo show back up, looking grim and a little guilty. God, what did they do this time? The way they were looking at Dustfinger, the concern and pity so visible in Meggie's eyes, made my stomach twist. That was the look you get when someone knows something they're not sure they should tell you—something bad. "This isn't gonna be good," I mutter under my breath as the pair join us.

"Am I right in guessing there were no copies left?"

"Yes," Mo nods," they were all stolen years ago." I stand, a sudden cold dread making me want to hide behind Mo like I did when I was a little girl before Resa had disappeared but after my mom died. I wanted to bury my face in his back and breathe in his familiar, comforting scent and pretend that everything would be alright since I had Mo and Mo had me.

"Why are you staring at me like that, Princess," I hear Dustfinger snap, but I can't bring myself to glance up from my feet. "Do you know something I don't?" An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air like a palpable thing you could reach out and touch. "Curse it all!" I hear a dull thud, looking up in time to see Dustfinger favoring one foot and coming to the conclusion that he had kicked the wall of the nearest building. "You told the writer about me and now your daughter knows more about me than I do!" I flinch back, fear creeping up my spine. "Tell me what it is, I have a right to know. Basta's the cause, isn't he? Does he string me up by my neck and hang me till I'm dead?"

"Dusty," I say softly, trying to calm him, but he's already in hysterics.

"No! No, the story's changed now, he's in this world and he can't hurt me if you send me back!" He takes a step toward Mo, looking as though he was ready to throttle him until Mo agreed to try and read him back, but Meggie steps between the two men, looking braver than I'll ever be.

"It wasn't Basta," she shouts back, pushing his chest with her small hands until he moved back. "It was one of Capricorn's men that is still in the book—they were going to kill Gwin, but you got in the way and they killed you instead! If you go back now, you'll still be killed and nothing will have changed!" Tears gather in his eyes, making the blue seem to shine in the sunlight. He wipes them away furiously, retreating away from Meggie when she tries to take his hand. "Don't you see? Here you have a chance to escape, to run away from Capricorn before he—"

_Before he has you killed and nothing changes at all_, I finish in my mind, suddenly feeling too dizzy to stand. I sit heavily on one of the steps, feeling as though I were about to be sick. An old man breaks away from a group of three small children, a happy grin on his face as he approaches us. "My grandchildren have been admiring that tame Marten you have on your chain," he says cheerfully," they say that the Marten can do tricks and the boy is a fire-eater. Do you think we could enjoy some close up magic?"

His mood seemed too happy after the bow Dustfinger has just taken, too forced in a way. It was like he already knew what was going on. The way the old man looked at Dustfinger was unsettling, like Dustfinger was his prized pureblood hound and he's returned home after far too long away. "No, we don't do tricks," Dusty manages after a moment. "There's nothing to be seen here." He takes a couple of steps away, but the old man follows, reaching out a hand as though he itched to touch Dustfinger's scarred cheek.

"I'm sorry…." He continues forward as Dustfinger continues back until he's trapped between the old man and a car. Dustfinger looked like a trapped animal, about to go on the defensive at any second if the old man doesn't back away.

"Go away!" He shoves the old man away roughly, moving quickly so that he was no longer pinned. "Farid, get my things!" Farid is fast, gathering Dustfinger's bags and bringing them to the older man in record time. Dustfinger takes his backpack, forcing Gwin into it without paying any mind to the Marten's sharp bite, shouldering the pack and attempting to push past the old man once more.

"Please, I only wish to talk!"

"I don't want to talk to _you_." He walks fast, pushing past everybody with Farid hot on his heels—both began to run after a few feet, Dustfinger looking like he couldn't get away fast enough. I watch them as they disappear before turning on the others.

"Who are you," I demand of the old man, standing on shaky legs.

"I-I am Fenoglio, I wrote Dustfinger's story." He sounds disappointed, a deep longing in his voice as he stares off in the direction Farid and Dustfinger ran in. "I thought he would be pleased to see the man that created him."

"Would you be happy to see a man that wouldn't explain himself? That wrote your death and then moved on with his life so easily?" I shake my head, turning my back to the group so that they wouldn't see the angry tears stinging my eyes. Perhaps going back to where it all started had been a mistake after all, all that occurred was loss and heartbreak.


	16. A Good Place to Stay

_I feel like dancing tonight,  
>I'm gonna party like it's my civil right,<br>Everybody get kinda awesome.  
>It doesn't matter where, I don't care if people stare,<br>'cause I feel like dancing tonight._  
><strong>I Feel Like Dancin'—All Time Low<strong>

Mo looked lost after Dustfinger ran off, lost and filled with the guilt of the last nine years. "I know I said we would leave for Elinor's after we met with the author," he says softly," but let's leave that journey for tomorrow. There's something else I need to discuss with Fenoglio." Fenoglio must be the old man's name, the old man who had chased Dustfinger away just when he was beginning to open up.

I walk a ways away from the group, my stomach twisting with secondhand guilt the longer I picture the dejected expression on Dustfinger's face, his bright blue eyes shining with tears. I sit in the parking lot with my eyes closed and the sound of the waves crashing against the beach below soothing me into a false feeling of safety. It was working well until I feel the familiar warmth and pressure of Mo's hand on my shoulder. "Where are we staying tonight?"

"Fenoglio's offered to let us stay in an apartment that he owns." I nod, taking Mo's hand and letting him pull me up on my feet. "I know you're angry, Juli, but I truly had no plan on telling Fenoglio about Dustfinger—"

"It just sort of happened," I interrupt, grabbing my bag out of the rental car," I get it. No need to explain yourself to me." I hook my fingers in the straps of my backpack, waiting on Mo to lead the way back to the others. He gets the hint slowly, beginning to walk while I move to walk behind him, my eyes on the ground.

We go to Fenoglio's home first, the old man and Mo disappearing into a study, the three grandchildren chasing Meggie around the house, and myself curled up in an armchair next to a lamp with _The Hobbit_ balanced on my knees. Night was beginning to fall by the time the two men reemerged ad I had a good chunk of my book read, nearing the riddle game chapter between Sméagol and Bilbo—one of my personal favorites. Fenoglio, surprisingly, was a good cook; he made pasta with bits of sage stirred into the sauce, the bitter tasting leaves quickly getting placed on my napkin.

"Would you like some, Julianne," Fenoglio asks, holding up a bottle of red wine.

"Sure." He pours three glasses to start out with and hands one to Mo and I respectively. It's a bit too sweet for me, but it was welcome after such a horrid week. Right about now, if things hadn't gone pear-shaped, I would be relaxing in my dorm room with a text book and a line of shots to down whenever I got an answer right. So it wasn't the most conventional form of studying, but, besides a slight hangover, the results were good.

Between the three of us, the bottle of wine was emptied before dinner was finished and a pleasant warmth had spread from my head all the way to my toes. I may not be drunk, but it soothed my ragged nerves and made me drowsy. Mo helps me as we make our way to the apartment after supper, Fenoglio leading the way since he's the only one who knows where we're going. "This is where I wish you all goodnight, I suppose." The old man pushes the door open and flips on a light, the soft light making his wrinkly face seem even more so. "So, you'll look at my books as we agreed, Mortimer, and I'll get down to work first thing tomorrow."

"What kind of work," Meggie asks curiously, looking up at our father with big blue eyes. I lean against the doorway, waiting for Mo to answer with my eyes closed as I enjoy my slight buzz.

"I'd rather you didn't ask me that," comes Mo's response. "Let's just pretend like we're on a vacation, this is a great spot for that, don't you think?" Meggie doesn't say anything, and no one else does either as I walk through the apartment to an empty bedroom, collapsing face first on a bed without undressing and falling asleep soon after.

I don't wake until early afternoon the next day, the sunlight spilling through the window and nearly blinding me. "Creatures of the night shouldn't wake like this," I grumble, rolling off the bed and onto the floor before grabbing my bag and crawling into the small bathroom. After a quick shower, I brush out my thick mane of hair and dress for the day in a pair of shorts, a floral tank top, a short-sleeved "jacket" to cover my upper arms and their stretch marks, and my Minion converses.

On the kitchen counter is a note and some money, the note obviously written by Mo if the handwriting is anything to go off of. '_We'll be at Fenoglio's house so I can cure his books, you should go for a walk around the village and soak up the sun. I love you, Juli. ~Mo' _ I smile, stuffing the money I my pocket and tossing the note in the trash before walking out, deciding my first mission should be to buy some sunglasses and then find a bookstore. The village isn't large, so a vendor selling sunglasses is easy to find, the aviators fitting nicely and blocking the sun from my eyes.

The bookstore is a little harder to find, but I do eventually, tucked away between two slightly larger stores. The smell that hits me when I walk inside is comforting, old pages and coffee, and I instantly find an overstuffed armchair to curl up in with a few books. "E-excuse me, miss," the owner says, standing a little bit away from my chair," you'll either need to buy the book or put it back."

"How much for these three?"

"Twenty-five." I pull out the needed amount and hand it to the man before collecting my books and walking down the familiar road that leads to Fenoglio's home where I spend the rest of my time outside in his small garden with a book opened in my lap and a bottle of water clutched in my hand.

That's how the next few days pass, Mo up in Fenoglio's attic working, Meggie running around with Fenoglio's three grandchildren, and me in the garden with a book. The nights are strangely quiet compared to what I was used to in a college town, no drunken brawls or off-key singing, just the yowling of tomcats outside in the alley. I miss the noise, the smell of burnt Ramen Noodles and stale beer.

**Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up, I've been struggling with writer's block and it took me forever to be able to write this decently. **


	17. Talkative Pippo

_I see the bad moon rising.  
>I see trouble on the way.<br>I see earthquakes and lightning.  
>I see bad times today<em>  
><strong>Bad Moon Rising—Creedence Clearwater Revival<strong>

**Sorry this update took me forever, but I was mainly focused on finishing up the third part of my Once Upon a Time story, but now I'm back for a while and hopefully I can finish this story up soon and get to its sequel. :)**

The afternoon of our third day in the village was slightly different than the other two, I sit in the living room with one my new books as a light drizzle starts up outside, the apartment darker than usual since the windows were closed and the curtains drawn. I read by candlelight, the flickering flame casting shadows across the room and drawing my eyes away from the familiar pages of _Black Butler_. The weather made me sleepy and I almost didn't notice as Meggie came in with a squirming something in her arms. It looked like a drowned rat from my vantage point, but the soft meows coming from the bedroom tell me it's a stray cat.

I smile a little, watching as my sister moves into the kitchen and grabs a saucer and the last of the milk out of the fridge. She's so kind most of the time, a true animal lover like her mom. I frown, wondering if my mom liked animals, wondering if she was a cat person or a dog person, or a little of both like I am. I shake the thoughts away, focusing back on my sister as she takes the little saucer back into the bedroom where she left the cat. She's got one of Mo's sweaters on, much too big for her, but keeping her warm after the rain she just came in out of.

I can't blame her, I'm dressed in sweats and a long-sleeved Monsters University shirt and I'm not even leaving the apartment! With my fuzzy socks and converse on, my toes are toasty warm and I silently think Aunt Elinor for making me get the fuzzy socks even if they were pink. I lean my head back as a knock sounds at the front door, knowing no one had come to visit me. "Who is it," Meggie calls from the bedroom.

"Meggie," a voice calls back, small and a little shrill. One of the kids, then, coming to drag Meggie out to play one of their little games—probably one of the boys. I hear Meggie moving through the apartment, but she ever comes into my line of sight.

"Meggie can't go out and play in the rain," I say loudly, taking the pressure off my sister. "She's not coming down with a cold on my watch, sorry!"

"Please, Julianne!" Meggie moves into the living room, looking as exasperated as a kid her age can look. It's obvious the kids are beginning to get on her nerves at this point and she's ready to go home. I shrug, patting her shoulder as I move to the door. Maybe if I told the kid that Meggie was bedbound until she got over a case of the sniffles, he'd run home for fear of contamination. I pull the door open, an apologetic smile already in place when my eyes land where a child's head would be only to find the buckle of a belt.

Slowly, my eyes trail up to the dress shirt and suit jacket, the flower in the lapel, and then to a face I could never hope to forget. "Isn't this a sight for sore eyes," Basta asks in a deceptively soft tone, the fingers of his left hand curled into the back of Pippo's shirt, his other hand pushing me further back into the room. I hear Meggie scampering back into the bedroom, thanking God she had more common sense than I do. Basta enters the apartment, not loosening his hold on Pippo with Flatnose coming in after, his shoulders nearly taking up the entire doorway.

"Let the kid go, he's done nothing wrong by you or your master."

"Is that a fact? No, he's done nothing wrong by me, but he is the one that showed me where you were hiding out." Despite the brave front I'm trying desperately to present, I can't help but take a step back when he shoves Pippo over to Flatnose and moves towards me. "Do you know how long we spent in that hovel before we were found?" The smell of peppermint hits me when he snarls, Basta catching the front of my sweater and yanking me closer to him. "A _very _long time!"

He forces me backwards, nearly making me trip over _The Hobbit_ as he pushes me back into the bedroom where Meggie is hiding. "Where's the little witch," Flatnose demands to know. I stay silent, staring straight ahead at Basta lest I give away my sister's favorite hiding place. The closet's not exactly original, but it did its job when the people looking for you are dumber than a box of rocks.

"Where's the rest of your family, Juli? The little brat said your father had gone out, but we know Meggie is here somewhere. Where's your father gone off to?"

"The market, looking for a collector's edition of _Phantom of the Opera_," I answer a mite too quickly. "Meggie must have climbed through the window when she heard you speaking—she's a smart girl and knows when to run." That one they might believe since the bedroom window is open, letting some rain in. "H-how did you—"

"Dustfinger, of course." He smiles, pushing me again just hard enough to send me toppling backwards onto one of the beds. "It's not hard to find a man that juggles with fire around these parts, old men tend to remember those things and are eager to point the way to go after a little….Persuasion. Where is the old fire-eater? Is he in the market too?" So he didn't give into them after all.

"He left a few days ago, I haven't seen him since then."

"Oh yes? Well, don't worry, we'll find him again and show him what happens to deserters. On to more pressing business." I scoot backwards until my back is pressed against the headboard, my knees drawn up to my chest and my arms wrapped around them to present a smaller target should Basta feel the need to start throwing punches. "The lad here has said some very interesting things about his grandfather." Pippo, nearly ashen from fear, stares down at his shoes shamefully. "He said that the old man writes books that your father took a keen interest in."

I open my mouth, but find the words dried up on my tongue, unable to get them out. Basta grins, looking like a predator closing in on its prey. "H-he…" I stutter, feeling tears stinging my eyes as Basta sets a knee on the very edge on the bed with the fingers of one hand wrapped tightly around my ankle. "N-n-no!" He yanks hard, making me cry out when I'm pulled further down the bed until I'm forced to straighten out with Basta position between my knees, my legs dangling from the bed.

"Perhaps this will loosen your tongue." Meggie flies out of the closet like a yellow blur, the pure force of her taking Basta down without any warning. "Little witch!" Basta roughly grabs ahold of Meggie, his free hand going for his knife as I leap off the bed and onto him, forcing him to let go of my sister. "Grab her!" Meggie doesn't stand a chance against the much larger man, Flatnose easily holding her and Pippo in place while Basta and I struggle to gain control over the other.

"Leave us alone, we've got nothing you want here and Capricorn's already stolen the book you're thinking of!" I'm still on top, but it's obvious that Basta could change that easily if he wanted to. I may be fat, but I probably couldn't fight my way out of a paper bag. With a laugh, Basta backhands me across the face hard enough to send me to the floor, dazed and understanding why cartoon characters see little stars dancing around their heads.

"I guess we should make sure of that for ourselves, Juli." With a grunt of effort, Basta hauls me up in his arms and we make our way out into the rain. Pippo and Meggie cling to each other out in the cold, but I refuse to cling to Basta, resolving to shiver until we get somewhere warm again despite how cozy Basta would be. The rain drove people into their homes, no one out on the streets to see pleading looks or miserable children. Basta is cursing the rain, his voice nearly drowned out from the boom of thunder. I can make out Fenoglio's house, blinking water out of my eyes with no real success.

Basta sets me back on my feet, him and Flatnose taking positions on either side of the door so that the old man wouldn't notice them immediately. Stubbornly, I don't knock, I just stand in the cold and glare at Basta, daring him to do something and draw attention to us. The old lady down the street would come out at the first sound of trouble and I'm pretty sure she could take on Basta and Flatnose with that walker of hers. Flatnose raps on the door before going back to his place. For a moment, just a second, I had the fleeting hope of Fenoglio being gone, but then the old man pulled the door open and stared down at us.

"What on earth do you three think you're doing," he asks angrily," running around in weather like this? I was just about to go looking for you, now get in here and warm up. Really, Julianne, I expected better of someone your age." I open my mouth, a warning just on the tip of my tongue when Basta steps out of hiding and wraps an arm around my neck.

"Can we come in, too?"

"I don't know," I remark sardonically," can you?" He jerks his arm back, making me cry out in pain.

"Who are these people," Fenoglio demands, looking at Meggie like it was her fault that two strange men were at his door. "Friends of your father's?"

"You know them better than I do," Meggie responds crossly," you created them." It took a moment, Fenoglio's eyes narrowed in confusion until they suddenly widened with awareness. The dark hair and skinny frame of Basta is familiar to him, the feature of Flatnose's face that gave him his name helping with processing. Little Paula appears in the doorway, peering out beyond her grandfather's leg moments after Pippo ran inside—apparently he was crying.

"Go back to him and I'll be there in a moment." His eyes never left Basta's face, not admiring the way he looked at Dustfinger, but with a good amount of fear and dread.

"How much longer must we stand out here," Flatnose grumbles, words sounding nasally, the same way most people sound when they pinch their nose and try to speak.

"Basta!" Fenoglio is still in a state of shock, standing in the doorway as the rain continues to fall down on us. It's cold and my fuzzy socks are no longer keeping me warm like they had back in the apartment.

"That's my name, old man," Basta responds with a smile. His eyes narrow when he smiles, I note, just like a cat when it's being petted. "We've heard you have something that interests us a great deal—a book." There's no hint of recognition in Basta's face, no fear or hate like Dustfinger had. He doesn't know that this is the man who gave him life, his creator and the only reason he's alive right now.

"Enough talking," Flatnose growls," the rain's running in my ears." He leads the way inside the house, pushing Fenoglio out of his way like one would do to an annoying sibling when in a bad mood. Basta pushes Meggie ahead of us with his free hand, his other arm still around my throat and making walking awkward. We move through the house into the kitchen where Pippo was crying in his cupboard and Paula was speaking to him through the wood. She looks at Flatnose nervously when we walk in, not letting her eyes leave the scary man's face. Fenoglio gestures Paula over to him as he sits at the table, holding his granddaughter tightly to him.

"Where is it?" Basta is looking around the room, but Fenoglio doesn't answer, just watching Basta with some awe.

"It's not here," I repeat, tugging at Basta's arm, trying to get him to release me so I can go to my sister. He tightens his hold briefly, making me wince and redouble my efforts. "Let me go!"

"Look for it!" Flatnose obeys begrudgingly, storming out of the kitchen to look around the rest of the house. Basta's gaze lands on Meggie, the blonde not flinching away from it like I would have. God, she's so brave for someone so young. "How did your father find the old man, little witch?" The look my sister sends Fenoglio is one of warning, but the old man isn't paying her any attention, his eyes are still riveted on Basta.

"How did they find me," the old man asks with indignation. "I wrote the book!" He looked as though he expected Basta to worship him as a god, but I'd bet my right shoe that Basta was looking at him with pity.

"Oh, yes, of course you did." I can feel Basta's free hand move partly behind me to reach his knife, slipping it out and beginning to make notches in the old kitchen table.

"He really did," Meggie affirms, desperately searching Basta's face for something, but looking away in disappointment when she doesn't find it.

"Your sister has quite an imagination, Julianne, but I wonder who came up with that lie first. Stories are all old, their authors dead and buried long ago." He jabs the knife into the table, pulls it out, and continues the process while waiting on Flatnose to finish stomping around upstairs. If his little theory was right, then I'd already have _The Winds of Winter _in my hands to read. I catch sight of Fenoglio's amused expression seconds before Basta forces me into a chair in front of him with his free hand gripping my shoulder hard enough to cause pain and keep me in place. "Do you find something funny about what I just said, old man?!"

"You always wear long sleeves, don't you," Fenoglio asks with curiosity. "Would you like me to tell you why?" Basta ignores what Fenoglio just said, complaining about how long Flatnose has been busy. He's avoiding the answer, not wanting the old man to tell everyone in the room. "He's taking so long because he can't read. You can't either unless you've been taught since you came into this world. None of Capricorn's men can read—Capricorn himself can't even read." Basta stabs the table again, this time so hard he had some trouble pulling it back out again.

"Of course Capricorn can read, what are you even talking about?" He leans over the table, stomach brushing my shoulder as he stares threateningly down at Fenoglio. "I don't like how you speak, old man. Why shouldn't I carve a few more wrinkles into your face?" Fenoglio just smiles up at him, as though he knows something Basta himself doesn't. Shaking, I place a hand on Basta's wrist, applying gentle pressure until the older man lowered his knife a little.

"You wear long sleeves because your master likes to play with fire." Fenoglio speaks slowly, like he was explaining math to a fifth grader. "You burned both of your arms right up to the shoulder when you set fire to a man's house who refused to give Capricorn his daughter. Ever since that night, someone else played with the fire while you content yourself to playing with knives." Basta moves so fast, that Paula hides under the table in fear and I jump, feeling him leaning further over me.

"You like to make yourself seem clever, don't you?" His words are growled out, his knife fully raised and resting under Fenoglio's chin. "All you've done is read that damned book, isn't that right?" Fenoglio doesn't look afraid in the slightest, boldly meeting Basta's gaze head on without so much as a tremor.

"I know all about you, Basta—you'd give up your life for Capricorn, always hungry for his praise like a starving dog begging for scraps. You were younger than Meggie when you were recruited and you've looked up to him ever since, but can I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you're ignorant and he hates you for it. He hates all of his devoted sons, even though it's his own fault that you're all so oblivious. He wouldn't hesitate to do away with the lot of you if it would work in his favor. Do you understand that?"

"Hold your filthy tongue!" I flinch, squeezing my eyes closed when Basta's knife comes alarmingly close to Fenoglio's face. Would he actually carve up the old man's face like he did Dustfinger's? The answer is undoubtedly yes, he would do whatever pleased him as long as the consequences wouldn't fall at Capricorn's feet. "You know nothing about Capricorn, just what you read in that cursed book. I think I should cut your throat—"

"No," I shout, turning in my seat, and pushing at him with enough force to make him stumble backwards a few feet. He turns his dark eyes on me, bile raising in my throat as I realized how angry he was and that I had directed that anger at myself. I might as well have handed him a loaded gun and told him to aim for my head. I swallow hard, dangerously close to tears as he moves to tower over me.

"You mind your own business!" He backhands me again, sending me crashing to the floor and hitting my head on the table on my way down. The room seemed to be spinning around me, thoughts jumbled in my confusion, and Paula's crying just a noise in the background that can barely be heard over the ringing in my ears. I was only dimly aware of being picked up, the peppermint smell telling me who held me in strong arms.

_I just wanna go home_….


End file.
